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LEONIE  LOCKE; 


OR, 

THE  ROMANCE  OF  A  BEAUTIFUL 
NEW     YORK      WORKING     GIRL. 


BY 

LAURA    JEAN    LIBBEY, 

AUTHOR  OF 

"Parted  on  Her  Bridal  Tour,"  or  "Miss  Middleton's  Lover," 

"  When  His  Love  Grew  Cold,"  "He  Loved,  But  Was 

Lured  Away,"  "When  Lovely  Maiden  Stoops 

to  Folly,"  "  The  Crime  of  Hallow  E'en," 

"Lovers  Once,  But  Strangers 

Now,"  Etc.,  Etc. 


C 


Dramatic  Rights  Reserved  b; 
LAURA  JEAN 


£33  S,  Main  St. 
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In  compliance  with  current  copyright 

law,  U.  C.  Library  Bindery  produced 

this  replacement  volume  on  paper 

that  meets  ANSI  Standard  Z39.48- 

1984  to  replace  the  irreparably 

deteriorated  original 

1998 


LEONIE  LOCK 


""  **•»*•       >  i 

S.  Wain  St,  ' 


CHAPTEH  L 


SEVEN  o'clock  on  a  crisp  December  morning. 

One  of  the  Fulton  Fsr^y  boats  bt:d  just  reached  the  Naw 
York  dock.  The  chain  which  had  kept  the  eager,  restless 
throng  back  had  been  tossed  aside,  and  hundreds  of  rosy- 
cheeked,  nimble-footed  lassies  were  hurrying  forward  to 
catch  the  stage  up  Broadway,  or,  perchance,  one  of  the 
eJevated  trains,  or  the  horse-cars,  as  the  case  might  be, 
while  others,  who  could  not  afford  the  luxury  of  riding, 
gathered  their  wraps  more  closely  about  them  that  crisp, 
cold  morning,  setting  off  for  their  various  destinations  on 
foot. 

Among  the  latter  was  Leonie  Locke,  the  heroine  of  our 
story:  a  small,  petite  young  girl  of  perhaps  some  seven 
teen  years,  dressed  in  a  neat  dark-blue  dress,  with  jacket 
of  the  same  material,  and  cloth  cap  to  match. 

Her  blue  veil  was  tossed  carelessly  back,  revealing  a 
rosy,  dimpled  face,  large  brown  eyes,  and  a  wealth  of 
glossy  bro  ^n  hair  that  fell  to  her  slender  waist  in  heavy 
curls. 

In  one  neatly  gloved  hand  she  held  a  copy  of  the  "  Ker- 
ald,"  at  which  she  glanced  eagerly  as  she  hurried  along. 

"  What  if  1  were  too  late!"  she  gasped,  and  something 
very  like  a  sob  issued  from  the  red,  half  -parted  lips,  as  she 
thought  of  her  father  who  lay  sick  unto  death  awaiting  in; 
auch  painful  anxiety  the  issue  of  that  morning's  visit  —  the 
father  whose  sudden  illness  had  left  them  both  destitute. 

970395 


*>  ..  LEONIB    LOCKE. 

Poor  girl!  she  was  face  to  face  for  the  first  time  in  he* 
young  life  with  the  hard,  bitter  world;  and  she  must  find 
work  or  starve. 

No  wonder  the  sob  broke  tremulously  from  Leonie 
Locke's  quivering  lips  as  she  thought  of  all  this  and 
«quickened  hei^  pace,  glancing  nervously  at  the  following 
advertisement  ..she  held  in  her  hand: 

"  WANTED. — A  few  more  fur-sewers;  experience  un 
necessary.  To  "the  right  parties,  work  all  winter.  All 
applicants  must  call  bnf.ore  8  A.  M.  Lincoln  &  Carlisle, 
Furriers,  Xo.  — •  Broadr,vay. " 

So  intently  was  the  young  girl  scanning  the  advertise 
ment  she  did  not  observe  the  handsome,  dark-eyed  man 
who  had  followed  her  from  the  ferry,  his  boM  eyes  drink 
ing  in  every  lineament  of  that  lovely,  innocent  young  face 
as  he  kept  pace  beside  her,  noting  with  a  wicked  smile  of 
satisfaction  by  the  paper  she  was  glancing  over  that  she 
was  evidently  in  search  of  work. 

The  clock  from  an  adjacent  belfry  slowly  tolled  the  hour 
of  eight,  and  Leonie  glanced  around  her  with  a  little 
frightened  cry,  urging  her  tired  little  feet  onward  with 
greater  speed  over  the  slippery  ice-covered  pavement. 

"  You  seem  to  be  in  an  outrageous  hurry  this  bitter  cold 
morning,  my  dear,"  cried  a  voice  at  her  elbow. 

Leonie  glanced  around  abruptly  in  surprise  and  anger 
at  being  thus  rudely  accosted. 

;  At  that  instant  her  flying  feet  slipped  o:  the  icy  pave 
ment,  precipitating  her  directly  under  the  stranger's  feet, 
her  veil  flying  in  one  direction  and  the  paper  in  another. 

In  a  moment  two  strong  arms  were  clasping  her  more 
closely  than  the  occasion  demanded,  and  a  pair  of  wicked 
dark  eyes  were  gazing  down  into  the  frightened  brown 
ones,  and  a  voice  tha.t  struck  subtile  terror  to  Leonie's 
heart  whispered,  mockingly: 

",Many  thanks  to  fate  for  pasting  so  pretty  a  little  dar« 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  7 

ling  into  mj  arms!  I  must  have  a  kiss  for  my  trouble, 
though." 

Like  a  flash,  Leonie  tore  herself  free  from  the  man's  de 
taining  grasp,  her  brown  eyes  blazing,  and  her  fair  young 
face  flushed  to  a  deep  crimson. 

**  You  are  no  gentleman,  sir,"  she  cried,  fairly  trem 
bling  with  emotion,  "  to  insult  an  honest,  unprotected  girl 
in  this  manner!  Hand  me  back  my  veil  and  my  paper." 

"  I  propose  to.  keep  your  veil, }i  replied  the  bold-eyed 
young  man,  with  an  insolent  laugh;  "  it  will  be  highly 
prized  by  me,  I  assure  you,  because  it  has  rested  upon  so 
fair  a  cheek.  And  as  for  the  paper,  toss  it  aside;  a  young 
girl  with  such  a  glorious  face  as  yours  need  never  look  for 
work." 

A  mist  seemed  gathering  before  the  poor  girl's  eyes,  and 
her  heart  seemed  bursting  with  the  taunting  insult  of  the 
stranger's  mocking  words. 

She  was  too  indignant  to  answer;  and  with  the  great 
pearly  tears  falling  like  rain  from  her  flashing  eyes,  Leonie 
turned  and  fled. 

"Adieu  for  the  present,  my  pretty  one!"  cried  the 
stranger,  with  a  cruel  laugh.  "  I  shall  know  where  to  find 
you  when  I  have  leisure  to  search  for  you.  If  I  mistake 
not,  this  is  your  address  penciled  upon  the  margin  of  this 
paper.  Adieu,  fair  Leonie,  I  promise  you  we  shall  meet 
again/' 

Leonie  heard  him,  but  she  never  turned  her  head.  In 
her  intense,  eager  desire  to  put  as  much  space  as  possible 
between  herself  and  the  bold  stranger,  she  fairly  flew  up 
the  street. 

The  loss  of  the  paper  was  a  serious  inconvenience  to  her, 
and  the  loss  of  her  veil  a  still  greater  one;  but  she  had  no 
time  to  waste  in  thinking  over  it 

Leonie  had  a  good  memory,  and  she  had  not  forgotten 
the  number;  and  fr^-tew  moments,  panting  and  breath- 


8  LEONIB    LOCKE. 

le*§,  §he  found  herself  standing  before  Messrs.  Lincoln  & 
Carlisle's  marble  building. 

As  Leonie  had  expected,  hundreds  of  applicants  were 
there  before  her;  yet,  among  the  many,  Leonie  was  the 
only  one  selected. 

"  It's  all  on  account  of  her  pretty  face!"  cried  the 
chagrined,  disappointed  girls,  brushing  angrily  past  Leonie. 
"  Pretty  faces  are  always  passports  to  favor!" 

Meanwhile,  Leonie  had  followed  the  clerk  into  the  work 
room  beyond. 

Dozens  of  girls  raised  their  heads  from  their  work  as 
Leonie,  shrinking  and  trembling,  was  ushered  into  their 
presence. 

In  every  workshop,  or  where  there  are  a  number  of 
young  girls,  there  is  always  one — one  whose  word  is  law 
among  the  other  girls — who  generally  takes  the  lead  of  her 
companions,  and  in  the  workshop  of  Messrs.  Lincoln  & 
Carlisle,  Kate  Hardy  reigned  supreme. 

The  girls  all  glanced  toward  Kate  to  see  what  she 
thought  of  the  lovely  young  stranger,  who  quietly  took  her 
seat  among  them  ere  they  dared  express  an  opinion  of 
their  own  in  regard  to  Leonie. 

**  Do  you  like  her?"  whispered  the  girl  who  sat  next  to 
Kate. 

For  several  moments  Kate  Hardy  studied  Leonie's  fair 
face;  then  a  laugh  that  was  not  pleasant  to  hear  broke 
from  her  lips  as  she  answered,  harshly: 

"  Like  her?    No;  I  bate  her!" 

"  I  know  why,"  retorted  the  other,  with  a  shrill  laugh; 
"  you're  afraid  she'll  cut  you  out  with  our  handsome  fore 
man,  Charlie  Hart.  Come,  own  up,  Kate;  you  know 
you're  only  jealous  of  her  because  she's  pretty — and  styl 
ish,  too." 

Kate  Hardy's  black  eyes  blazed  ominously,  and  she  grew 
white  to  the  very  lips. 

"  Then  I  would  kill  h«rl"  she  cried,  hoarsely. 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  9 

The  girls  all  laughed,  considering  the  speech  quite  a 
joke.  But  there  came  a  day  when  those  startling  words 
came  back  to  them  with  cruel  significance. 

Suddenly  the  door  of  the  work-roor\  opened,  and  a 
young  man  entered.  It  was  Charlie  Hart,  the  foreman; 
and  immediately  all  whispers  were  hushed,  and  all  the 
girls  bent  their  heads  quickly  over  the  piles  of  work  before 
them,  glancing  up  curiously,  however,  to  note  what  effect 
Leonie's  pretty  face  would  have  upon  the  susceptible  Char 
lie,  and  to  see,  too,  if  Kate  Hardy's  slumbering  jealousy 
would  be  aroused. 

Leonie  did  not  raise  her  eyes  from  her  work. 

A  low  exclamation  of  intense  surprise  broke  from  the 
foreman's  lips,  and  a  gleam  of  intense  satisfaction  and  tri 
umph  shone  in  his  bold  black  eyes  as  his  gaze  rested  upon 
Leonie. 

In  another  moment  he  had  crossed  the  room  and  stood 
by  her  side,  and  under  pretense  of  examining  the  fur 
trimming  Leonie  had  just  finished  stitching,  he  leaned 
down  and  whispered,  exultantly: 

"  Ah,  my  defiant  fairy!  how  little  I  dreamed  that  my 
prophecy  of  a  few  hours  since  would  be  fulfilled  by  kind 
late  so  very  soon!" 

Leonie  started  to  her  feet  with  a  low  cry,  scattering  the 
strips  of  fur  she  held  in  her  lap  in  all  directions. 

As  the  iirst  word  fell  from  his  Itps,  Leonie  had  recog 
nized,  with  sudden  terror,  the  voice  of  the  bold  stranger 
who  had  so  rudely  accosted  her  that  morning — the  man 
who  dared  insult  her  because  she  was  unprotected  and 
searching  for  work. 

"  Don^t  make  a  scene  before  the  rest  of  the  girls,"  he 
whispered,  angrily;  "  for  if  you  do  I  shall  turn  you  off 
without  a  moment's  notice.  I  have  full  power  to  do  it, 
and  it  is  not  easy  to  get  into  work  in  the  dead  ci  winter 
Sit  down  again,  I  sayj  jou  are  attracting  the  attention  of 
the  rest  of  the:  girls. 


10  LEONIE    LOCKS. 

Great  flashes  of  color  swept  over  Leonie's  cheeks  in  crim 
son  waves;  every  impulse  in  her  heart  urged  her  to  turn 
and  fly  from  this  man;  but  a  still  stronger  power  held  her 
spell-bound — the  power  of  sordid  gold!  She  dared  not 
give  up  this  chance  of  earning  bread;  if  she  did  the  loved 
one  at  home  would  suffer,  and  she  sunk  back  into  her 
seat  again  with  something  very  like  a  groan  breaking  over 
her  quivering  lips. 

He  saw  how  she  shrunk  from  him,  and  the  look  of  hor 
ror  in  the  brown  eyes,  and  his  face  darkened  with  an 
angry  frown. 

44  You  are  in  my  power,  my  little  beauty!"  he  whis 
pered.  "  You  will  only  succeed  in  breaking  your  own 
wings  if  you  attempt  to  fly  from  me." 

He  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  her,  whispering  "  that 
he  would  return  her  veil  to  her  if  she  would  step  into  his 
office  when  work  was  over,  and  she  was  ready  to  go  home. " 

Five  o'clock!  The  deep  gloom  of  the  oncoming  night 
was  fast  settling  down  upon  the  great  city  as  Leonie 
emerged  from  the  cloak-room  and  was  making  her  way 
down  the  narrow  stairway  that  led  to  the  street. 

Suddenly  the  loud  calling  of  her  own  name  arrested 
her  steps. 

"  I  wish  you  to  step  into  my  room,  Miss  Locke/'  cried 
the  foreman,  angrily,  from  the  landing  above.  "  You 
have  spoiled  the  whole  of  the  work  intrusted  to  you  to-day. 
I  will  point  out  where  your  mistake  lies,  and  if  you  think 
;you  can  remedy  it,  well  and  good;  if  not,  it  shall  be 
charged  to  your  account  Step  this  way,  please/'  he  add 
ed,  authoritatively. 

For  one  moment  only  Leonie  hesitated. 

"  You  can  do  your  worst,  sir,"  she  cried  out,  angrily. 
"  What  you  say  about  the  work  is  all  false.  I  shall  not  go 
to  your  room.  You  insulted  me,  an  unprotected  girl,  on 
the  street  this  morning,  and  I  shall  take  good  care  you 
shall  never  have  the^opDortunitv  to  repeat  it." 


LBONIE    LOCKE.  11 

"  You  need  not  trouble  yourself  to  come  here  to-mor 
row,  Miss  Locke,''  called  the  foreman,  mockingly. 
"  Henceforth,  consider  your  services  dispensed  with.  If 
you  wish  settlement  for  to-day's  work,  step  into  my 
office." 

Like  one  half  stupefied  by  the  cruel  words  she  had  just 
heard,  Leonie  groped  her  way  out  of  the  building,  and  out 
into  the  bitter  cold  and  intense  darkness.  Little  dreaming  of 
the  strange,  thrilling  scene  in  which  she  was  to  play  such  a 
prominent  part  before  the  morrow's  sun  would  rise,  Leonie 
Locke  walked  on  to  her  fate. 


CHAPTER  IL 

LIKE  one  in  a  dream,  Leonie  made  her  way  toward  the 
Fulton  Ferry  again,  heartsick  and  discouraged. 

As  night  had  fallen  a  blinding  snow-storm  had  set  in; 
yet  Leonie  pushed  bravely  on,  questioning  herself  over  and 
over  again  as  to  whether  it  would  be  advisable  to  weary 
her  father  by  the  recital  of  the  trials  through  which  she 
had  passed  that  day,  or  to  meet  his  eager  eyes  with  the 
words  that  had  fallen  from  her  lips  every  day  for  the  past 
week:  "I  was  not  successful  to-day,  father;  but  who 
knows  what  to-morrow  may  bring  forth?" 

With  a  heavy  heart  Leonie  made  her  way  into  the 
cabin  of  the  ferry-boat,  and  as  she  sunk  into  a  seat,  the 
first  person  whom  she  saw,  standing  smiling  mockingly  be 
fore  her,  was  her  dreaded  foe — the  man  who  had  persecut 
ed  he-  so  cruelly,  Charlie  Hart. 

"  1  ought  to  be  very  angry  with  you  for  repulsing  me  so 
stubbornly,"  he  whispered,  bending  down  so  close  to  her 
she  could  feel  his  scorching  breath  burn  her  cheek;  "  yet 
your  ?ery  obstinacy  has  made  me  all  the  more  determined 
that  you  shall  care  for  me,  whether  you  will  or  not,  my  de 
fiant  Mttle  beauty.  You  made  a  mistake  in  quitting  out 
place  to-day.  Whvj  **»*  *mi?  jittle  girl,  I  had  it  in  my 


12  IBONIB    LOCKE. 

power  to  auiow  you  a  princely  b*Iary  that  would  have  kept 
YOB  like  a  queen  in  silks  and  diamonds.  You  have  stood 
in  your  own.  light;  but  it  is  not  too  late  yet.  You  shall 
come  back  to-morrow,  and  it  will  be  all  right;  I  can  ar 
range  it  for  you." 

A  tall,  handsome,  fair-faced  young  man,  with-  kindly 
blue  eyes  and  a  frank,  open  countenance,  who  had  entered 
the  cabin  unobserved,  and  stood  so  near  the  scheming 
foreman  that  he  could  not  help  but  hear  the  whispered 
words  that  fell  from  the  villain's  lips,  gave  a  sudden  start 
of  surprise,  then  turned  and  gazed  keenly  into  the  white, 
angered  face  of  the  young  girl  to  whom  the  words  had  been 
addressed. 

"  May  God  forgive  you  for  your  cruel  persecution  of  an 
honorable  girl,  for  I  never  can!"  cried  Leonie,  trembling 
with  suppressed  horror  and  mortification.  "  Your  very 
presence  is  contaminating.  Go  your  way,  sir,  and  let  me 
go  mine  in  peace!" 

She  sprung  from  her  seat,  and  would  have  pushed  her 
way  through  the  crowd  into  the  forward  cabin,  but  Charlie 
Hart  placed  himself  mockingly  directly  before  her;  but 
he  never  uttered  the  retort  that  sprung  to  his  lips,  for  a 
strong  arm  thrust  him  suddenly  back,  and  with  a  low, 
courteous  bow,  the  fair-haired  stranger  turned  to  Leonie, 
saying  kindly: 

"  You  are  free  to  go  your  way  in  peace,  young  lady.  I 
will  see  that  this  fellow  does  not  trouble  you  any  longer. " 

A  tremulous  "  Thank  you,  sir,"  was  all  Leonie  said; 
but  the  intense  gratitude  hi  the  eloquent  brown  eyes  spoke 
volumes. 

The  sudden  change  that  had  come  over  Charlie  Hart's 
face  was  laughable  to  see.  His  face  had  grown  ghastly  as 
he  muttered  the  stranger's  name — Gordon  Carlisle. 

"You  shall  answer  to  me  for  this  to-morrow,"  added 
Mr.  Carlisle,  sternly.  "  The  firm  of  Lincoln  &  Carlisle 
can  well  do  without  such  a,  foreman  as  you  have  proven 


LEONIE     LOCKE.  13 

yonrself  to  be.  Call  at  the  office  to-morrow  morning  for 
a  settlement.  If  I  followed  the  dictates  of  my  heart  1 
would  not  let  you  depart  t>j  quietly,  but  give  you  the 
thrashing  which  your  insult  to  this  unprotected  girl  so 
richly  merits.  Leave  my  presence  at  once  before  1  repent 
of  my  leniency  toward  you. " 

Charlie  Hart  needed  no  second  bidding  to  take  himself 
eff,  but  there  was.  a  look  on  his  white  face  terrible  to  be- 
hold. 

"  It  is  all  mp  with  me  now/'  he  muttered;  "  that  little 
prude's  tongue  has  cost  me  my  situation,  in  the  dead  of 
whiter,  too;  but  1  swear  that  I  will  be  revenged  upon  her 
before  the  sun  rises  on  the  morrow;  I  will  take  such  a  re 
venge  as  will  follow  htr  to  the  end  of  her  life.'* 

And  in  his  fertile  brain  a  plan  was  already  forming,  so 
cruel  that  even  he,  dastardly  villain  though  he  was,  shrunk 
at  first  from  contemplating  such  a  wicked  plot  against  the 
peace  and  happiness  of  poor  innocent  Leonie  Locke. 

Meanwhile  the  boat  had  touched  the  Brooklyn  wharf,  and 
Leonie,  considerably  frightened  and  trembling  with  excite, 
ment,  was  making  her  way  out  with  the  crowd,  when  the 
gentleman  who  had  so  nobly  come  to  her  rescue  kindly 
touched  her  upon  the  arm. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon/'  he  said,  earnestly;  "  but  if  you 
will  permit  me  to  see  you  safely  home,  1  shall  be  much 
pleased.  You  may  safely  trust  me,"  he  added,  noting 
how  shyly  she  shrunk  from  his  proffered  escort  because  he 
was  a  stranger.  "  I  recognized  your  face  at  once  as  the 
young  lady  one  of  our  clerks  eiigaged  this  morning.  I  am 
Gordon  Carlisle,  junior  member. of  the  firm." 

As  he  spoke  he  produced  one  of  his  business  cards, 
which  he  handed  her  with  another  bow  and  with  as  much 
deferential  courtesy  as  though  she  bad  been  a  queen  instead 
of  a  poor  little  working-girl  who  had  been  turned  that  very 
day  from  his  doors. 

He  did  not  wait  ior_Lfconie/ji  renly,Jait  quietly  drew  he* 


14  LEO*fE    LOCKE. 

arm  within  his  own  with  gentle  authority,  starting  off  with 
her  at  a  rapid  pace  toward  the  nearest  cab-stand. 

"I  would  much  prefer  walking,"  said  Leonie,  "  as  I 
love  only  a  few  blocks  from  here,  on  Henry  Street, 
No.  — ." 

"  It  is  too  cold  to  walk/'  he  protested,  smiling  gravely 
down  into  the  beautiful  face.  "  Kindly  oblige  me  by  get 
ting  into  the  cab,  and  yon  shall  find  yourself  at  your  own 
door  in  a  very  few  moments." 

Silently  Leonie  obeyed.  She  never  knew  how  it  hap 
pened,  but  during  that  never-to-be-forgotten  drive  home 
ward  she  had  told  him  the  strange  story  of  her  life — the 
story  that  seemed  more  like  a  romance  than  a  reality: 
How  all  of  her  life,  up  to  one  short  month  ago,  had 
been  spent  at  a  lonely,  isolated  school  in  the  wilds  of  the 
Orange  Mountains,  and,  quite  unexpectedly,  the  father 
whom  she  had  not  seen  since  her  infancy  had  come  for 
her.  Since  then  her  life  had  been  a  whirl  of  excitement 
from  city  to  city,  until  her  father  had  been  stricken  ill 
with  a  disease  the  doctors  pronounced  fatal. 

"  I  do  not  care  for  myself,  Leonie,"  her  father  had 
groaned  out,  "  but  for  you,  my  child;  for,  God  help  us, 
we  are  both  penniless — penniless." 

Gordon  Carlisle  turned  away  his  head  that  she  might  nob 
see  the  tears  that  stood  in  his  honest  eyes  at  this  pitiful, 
touching  recital. 

4 'It  was  then  that  I  started  out  in  search  of  work,'* 
continued  Leonie,  plaintively;  "for  I  knew  if  I  did  not 
find  something  to  do,  papa  and  1  would  starve.  You 
know  the  rest,  Mr.  Carlisle;  how  happy  I  was  when  I 
thonght  I  had  secured  a  position  in  your  employ,  and  now 
— I  have  lost  it." 

"  I  think  I  can  offer  you  a  far  better  position  than  the 
one  you  had,"  returned  Mr.  Carlisle,  thoughtfully;  "  it  i& 
in  our  correspondence  department,  _  I  shall  not  need  you 


LEONH    LOCKE.  15 

for  a  week,  nowever,  but  I  will  pay  you  a  week's  salary  in 
advance,  that  1  may  be  sure  that  I  have  you  engaged. " 

^Before  Leonie  could  reply,  so  great  was  her  intense  as 
tonishment  and  delight,  the  cab  had  stopped  before  the 
house  in  which  she  and  her  father  had  secured  lodgings. 
Mr.  Carlisle  had  placed  a  bank-note  in  her  hand,  swiftly 
re-entered  the  coach,  and  was  rapidly  driven  away  ere  she 
had  time  to  refuse  the  money  so  strangely  thrust  upo» 
her. 

"  God  must  have  sent  him/'  sobbed  Leonie,  looking 
wistfully  after  the  retreating  cab.  "  He  not  only  saved 
me  from  the  toils  of  a  villain,  but  he  has  given  me  a 
chance  of  winning  bread  for  papa  and  me." 

Leonie  ran  up  the  stairs  two  steps  at  a  time,  she  was  so* 
anxious  to  break  the  good  news  to  her  father. 

Allan  Locke  lay  on  the  bed,  propped  up  by  pillows  to  a 
sitting  posture.  In  one  hand  he  held  a  pen  slightly  poised 
over  a  half-written  page,  and  on  the  other  hand  his  head 
rested  heavily,  and  his  writing-desk  lay  on  the  bed  beside 
him. 

"  Father!"  called  Leonie,  softly,  "  dear  father!"  but 
the  man  lying  there  so  quietly  neither  spoke  nor  moved. 

"  Poor  papa!"  sighed  Leonie,  softly;  "  he  is  fast  asleep^ 
1  must  not  disturb  him,  the  doctor  says  sleep  is  so  benefi 
cial  to  him;  my  good  news  will  not  spoil  by  keeping  i£ 
until  he  wakes." 

With  deft  fingers  Leonie  tied  on  her  dainty  ruffled  white- 
apron  and  set  about  tidying  their  suite  of  rooms.  "  Papa 
did  not  even  eat  his  lunch,"  thought  the  young  girl, 
curiously,  as  she  noticed  with  wonder  the  repast  she  had 
spread  for  him  before  leaving  that  morning  lying  quite 
untouched  beside  his  couch. 

"  Poor  papa,  he  needs  wine  to  strengthen  him,  and  he 
shall  have  it,"  decided  Leonie,  tying  on  her  hat  and  catch 
ing  up  her  sacque.  _jj.i  can  set  it  at  the  corner  grocery, 


16  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

no  doutir,  and  it  will  be  such  a  pleasant  surprise  to  him  to 
iind  it  on  the  table  before  him  when  he  awakes. " 

Poor  Leonie,  she  little  dreamed  Allan  Locke  would 
never  awaken  again  in  this  life. 

It  was  too  true.  Allan  Locke  was  dead,  with  the  great 
secret  which  had  shadowed  his  whole  life,  and  that  which 
would  shadow  the  life  of  the  child  he  loved  so  well,  but 
half  told  on  the  page  before  him. 

Yet,  all  mnmindful  of  death's  presence,  Leonie  stole 
softly  on  tiptoe  toward  the  door  on  her  errand,  but  as  she 
placed  her  hand  on  the  knob  she  was  startled  by  a  low, 
cautious  rap. 

"  Dear  me,  I  wonder  who  it  can  possibly  be,"  thought 
Leonie,  all  in  a  flutter,  as  she  opened  the  door. 

A  small  boy,  with  keen,  ferret-like  eyes,  stood  on  the 
threshold,  with  a  square  white  envelope  in  his  hand. 

"  Are  you  Miss  Leonie^Locke?"  he  asked,  shifting  nerv 
ously  from  one  foot  to  the  other. 

"  Yes/'  replied  Leonie.  "  What  do  you  want?  Is  that 
letter  you  have  in  your  hand  for  me?" 

"  Yes,  miss,"  he  replied,  handing  her  the  missive,  which 
sfoe  hurriedly  opened. 

It  read  as  follows: 

"  DEAR  Miss  LEON-IE  LOCKE, — Will  you  kindly  call  and 
see  me  far  a  few  moments  on  urgent  business?  I  can  not 
esplain  what  it  is  in  my  note.  I  will  not  detain  you  five 
minutes.  1  pray  you,  do  not  refuse  me.  The  bov  who 
brings  this  will  show  you  the  way.  I  live  only  a  block 
from  you.  Please  come.  I  am  one  of  the  girls  you  saw 
to-day  in  Lincoln  &  Carlisle's  work-room. 

"  0.  D." 

Leonie  did  not  recognize  the  initials — indeed,  all  the 
girls  were  strangers  to  her;  but  little  dreaming  of  treach 
ery  or  fraud,  poor  Leonie  followed  the  boy  down  to  the 
pavement 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  17* 

\  .The  snow  was  falling  steadily  in  great  blinding  flakes^ 
quite  obliterating  surrounding  objects  from  view.  A  caV 
was  drawn  close  to  the  curbstone,  but  Leonie  scarcely 
heeded  it,  nor  did  she  observe  the  sign  the  driver  made  to< 
the  boy  beside  her. 

*'  This  way,  miss,"  whispered  the  lad. 

Leonie  was  abreast  of  the  cab  now,  and  in  an  instant  the 
driver  had  leaped  from  his  box,  grasped  the  startled  girl  in. 
his  arms,  thrust  her  into  the  coach,  whipped  up  his  horses,, 
and  dashed  onward  at  break-neck  speed  through  the  terri 
ble  storm  and  the  darkness.  There  was  a  quick,  sharp- 
cry  from  the  interior  of  the  coach,  which  was  suddenly 
hushed,  and  the  cab  proceeded  leisurely  then  to  its  destina 
tion,  past  the  patroling  policemen,  who  little  knew  what 
a  dread  secret  it  held. 


CHAPTER 

ON  through  the  blinding  snow-storm  and  the  intense 
darkness  the  carriage  dashed  with  the  speed  of  the  windr 
stopping  at  length  before  a  red-brick  structure  on  the 
banks  of  the  East  River;  and,  too  thoroughly  frightened 
to  make  any  resistance,  Leonie  was  lifted  hurriedly  f rom 
the  coach  and  conveyed  into  the  building. 

At  that  moment  a  door  at  the  top  of  the  stairs  was 
thrown  open,  and  a  nood  of  light  penetrated  the  darkness 
of  the  hallway  below;  and  on  the  threshold  of  the  open 
door-way  stood  Charlie  Hart 

In  an  instant  the  full  peril  of  the  terrible  position  in 
which  she  found  herself  placed  burst  upon  Leonie's  scat 
tered  senses;  and  with  a  wild,  startled  cry  she  wheeled 
suddenly  about,  and  would  have  sprung  over  the  baluster 
and  down  into  the  hallway  below  had  not  a  strong  hand 
tightened  its  grasp  upon  her  arm,  and  a  rough  strange 
voice  cried,  angrily: 

"  You  needn't  attemot  that  j^ime.     Come  along  peace- 


18  LE02STIE    LOCKE. 

ably  and  quietly,  or  I  have  my  orders  how  to  silence  you  if 
you  give  me  any  trouble. " 

"  Have  you  brought  the  girl?"  called  Charlie  Hart,  anx 
iously.  "  Ah,  good-evening,  my  dear,"  he  cried,  exult 
antly,  as  his  eyes  rested  upon  Leonie's  white,  angered  face. 
*'  Allow  me  to  welcome  you  to  my  bachelor  paradise.  I 
have  been  expecting  you.  I  was  sure  my  urgent  little 
note  would  bring  you  to  me.  What  do  you  think  of  my 
clever  little  ruse  which  has  so  successfully  entrapped  you, 
my  dear?'* 

Leonie  was  a  brave  girl;  yet  in  the  face  of  a  danger  like 
this  which  menaced  her  the  stoutest  heart  would  have 
quailed;  but  for  a  moment  her  anger  overruled  her  deadly 
fear. 

"  So  it  is  you  whom  I  have  to  thank  for  this  outrage/  ' 
she  cried,  flushing  hotly.  "  It  was  you  who  decoyed  me 
away  from  my  poor  sick  father's  side  with  a  written  lie, 
and  brought  me  here  against  my  will,"  she  demanded, 
pantingly.  "  Let  me  go,  I  say,  at  once,  or  1  will  cry  out 
for  a  policemen  and  have  you  arrested !' ' 

A  low,  taunting,  jeering  laugh  was  Charlie  Hart's  only 
answer,  as  he  forcibly  clauped  her  wrists  and  attempted  to 
force  her  within  the  room. 

"  Then  I  appeal  to  you,"  cried  Leonie,  freeing  herself 
from  the  villain's  clasp,  and  turning  frantically  to  the 
man  who  still  stood  on  the  upper  seep.  "  It  was  you  who 
brought  me  here  at  this  man's  bidding/'  she  cried,  wildly; 
u  and  I  pray  you  to  take  me  away  again,  and  I  will  forgive 
you  for  what  you  have  done,  and  my  poor  father  will  bless 
you  for  repenting  and  rescuing  his  child/' 

"  I  reckon  that's  contrary  to  that  there  gentleman's 
plans,"  replied  the  man,  grimly;  "  that's  the  man  you 
want  to  talk  to/'  he  added,  with  a  coarse  laugh,  pointing 
'toward  Charlie  Hart.  "  I'm  working  under  his  orders  in 
<this  affair." 

"Bat  if  you  ha^_sisters  of  your  own,  and  they  were  hi 


LEONIE    LOCKE. 

auch  pern  as  I  am  in  now,  and  pleading  with  some  one  to 
save  them,  would  you  not  bless  the  man  that  listened  to 
their  prayer  and  saved  them?"  she  pleaded,  piteously. 

"  Don't  listen  to  her/'  exclaimed  Hart,  angrily,  as  he 
passed  over  a  roll  of  bills  to  his  companion.  "  You  may 
go  now,  Jim;  if  I  need  you  for  that  little  affair  to-morrow 
I  know  where  to  find  you." 

In  vain  Leonie  attempted  to  stay  the  man's  steps;  he 
was  deaf  to  her  cries,  and  in  another  moment  she  heard 
the  street  door  below  close  after  him  with  a  bang,  leaving 
her  alone — Heaven  help  her? — and  at  the  mercy  of  the  man 
who  had  sworn  to  take  such  a  cruel  revenge  upon  her. 

Almost  fainting  from  sheer  fright,  Leonie  was  drawn 
forcibly  into  the  room  and  the  key  turned  upon  her. 

"  Sit  down,  my  dear,"  Hart  said,  coolly,  "  and  now 
that  you  find  yourself  in  my  power,  let  us  talk  the  matter 
over  amicably.  The  treatment  you  receive  at  my  hands 
rests  entirely  with  yourself. " 

"  Open  the  door,"  cried  Leonie,  frantically,  "  or  I  shall 
cry  out  for  help;"  and  suiting  the  action  to  t  the  word, 
Leonie  uttered  a  succession  of  piercing  screams,  until  at 
last,  weak  and  spent,  she  was  forced  to  desist  from  sheer 
exhaustion;  but  not  one  of  those  pitiful  cries  pierced  the 
muffled  walls  of  her  prison-house. 

;'  When  you  find  out  how  useless  it  is  to  expect  help  to 
reach  you  here  you  will  sit  down  and  listen  to  reason,"  said 
Charlie  Hart,  seating  himself  in  a  cushioned  arm-chair  and 
lighting  a  cigar  as  he  spoke,  and  watching  her  through  the 
rings  of  smoke  that  circled  around  him. 

In  an  agony  of  fear  and  increasing  horror  Leonie  turned 
and  faced  him. 

4<  What  have  I  ever  done,  sir,  that  you  should  torture 
me  like  this!"  she  cried,  "  I,  a  perfect  stranger,  whom 
you  never  saw  until  this  morning?  I  beseech  you  to  open 
the  door  and  let  me  go  back  to  my  papa,  my  poor  sick 
papa,  who  is  lying  jo  HI  death  JHU£&u  come  to  him  at  any 


LEONIE    LOCKE. 

moment.  If  you  have  one  spark  of  human  pity  in  you! 
breast  you  will  listen  to  the  prayer  of  an  unprotected  girl 
and  let  me  go  free.  Open  the  door,  and  I  will  forget  your 
cruelty.  Please,  sir,  let  me  go  at  once/'  she  implored. 

"What  have  you  ever  done?"  repeated  Charlie  Hart, 
rising  from  his  chair  and  pacing  hurriedly  up  and  down 
the  length  of  the  room.  "  Listen  and  I  will  tell  you  what 
you  have  done,  Leonie  Locke.  You  have  changed  the 
whole  course  of  my  life  in  a  few  short  hours — done  what 
no  other  girl  on  the  face  of  the  earth  could  have  done — 
made  me  love  you,"  he  cried,  with  passionate  earnestness. 

So  great  was  Leonie's  astonishment,  she  quite  forgot  her 
fright  and  her  great  anxiety  to  get  home.  She  could  not 
even  answer  him  through  sheer  surprise  that  held  her 
epell-bound. 

As  no  answer  came  from  the  girl's  white  lipc,  he  went 
on,  triumphantly: 

"  I  knew  I  could  never  win  you  by  fair  means,  and  I 
nave  resorted  to  a  clever  little  stratagem  to  make  you 
mine — all  mine.  All  is  fair  in  love  and  war,  remember. " 

He  saw  the  look  of  horror  in  the  biown  eyes  raised  to 
ois,  and  the  deepening  pallor  of  the  beautiful  young  face, 
and  he  added,  hastily: 

"  Do  not  misunderstand  me,  my  pretty  Leonie.  I  mean 
well  by  you.  I  intend  to  make  you  what  1  never  thought 
I  should  care  to  make  any  woman — my  wife!" 

Leonie's  intense  anger  quite  overcame  her  fear. 

"  Your  wife!"  she  cried,  with  flashing  eyes  and  scornful 
lips.  "I  am  only  a  poor  unprotected  working-girl,  but 
let  me  tell  you  this,  sir:  I  would  rather  die — :yes,  die — 
than  become  your  wife.  If  that  was  your  design  in  bring 
ing  me  here,  you  have  utterly  failed,  for  I  shall  never 
marry  you — never!  1  despise  you;  words  fail  to  express 
how  much." 

A  low,  taunting  laugh  answered  this  outburst  of  indig 
nant  feeling. 


LOOKS.  21 

"  Your  obstinacy  and  aversion  make  yon  all  the  more 
charming  and  desirable  in  my  eyes,"  he  answered,  coolly; 
"  but  let  me  tell  you,  my  defiant  little  beauty,  there  are 
more  ways  than  one  of  bringing  you  to  terms.  Why,  if 
any  one  knew  of  your  presence  here  your  reputation  would 
be  blasted  forever. " 

"Oh!  no,  no,  no/'  gasped  Leonie.  "  I  would  tell  how 
I  was  duped  by  .your  false  note,  and  forcibly  brought  here; 
and  the  whole  world  would  rise  up  against  you  for  tortur 
ing  me  like  this. " 

"  No  one  would  believe  your  clever  little  story,  my  fair 
Leonie.  The  world  shows  women  little  mercy  when  scan- 
dal's  breath  attacks  them.  Who  would  believe  that  yon 
did  not  come  to  me  to-night  of  your  own  free  will,  if  I 
chose  to  give  it  out  so?  A  man  can  always  find  plenty  of 
friends  to  substantiate  such  statements,  where  the  young 
girl  is  obliged  to  battle  with  the  world  for  her  living  and 
has  no  protector  to  vindicate  hex." 

"God  can  take  care  of  unprotected  working  -  girls/* 
cried  Leonie,  "  and  I  defy  you!  I  would  die  before  I 
would  marry  you." 

"  Then  let  me  tell  you  the  consequence,"  he  replied, 
striding  toward  her  with  a  flushed  and  angry  face;  but  the 
rest  of  the  sentence  was  cut  short  by  an  imperative  rap  at 
the  door  at  that  opportune  moment. 

Something  like  a  muttered  imprecation  burst  from  Char 
lie  Hart's  lips  as  he  hesitated  an  instant,  then  turned  on 
hie  heel  and  flung  open  the  door,  taking  good  care,  how 
ever,  that  Leonie  should  not  take  advantage  of  it  to  make 
her  escape. 

"  Is  it  you  ?"  exclaimed  Charlie  Hart,  excitedly,  as  hia 
eyes  fell  upon  his  unexpected  visitor — a  tall,  heavy-sef 
man,  whose  face  was  scarcely  visible  he  was  muffled  so 
closely.  There  was  a  moment  of  low,  whispered  consulta 
tion  which  Leonie  cpuld^cawaelv,i»tt3hK  then  Charlie  Hari 


22  LEWIE    LOCKS. 

hastily  took  the  key  from  the  look  and  placed  it  upon  £faa 
outside. 

"  Make  DO  attempt  to  escape,"  he  cried.  "  Remember, 
I  warn  you.  If  you  do,  it  will  be  at  your  peril." 

The  next  moment  the  door  had  closed  with  a  bang  and 
fhe  key  was  turned  hi  the  lock  with  a  loud  click. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ALMOST  fainting  with  terror,  Leonie  heard  the  sound  of 
his  footsteps  die  away.  Then  a  terrible  stillness  reigned 
throughout  the  house  in  which  she  found  herself  an  un 
willing  prisoner. 

In  vain  she  tore  at  the  lock  with  her  slim  white  fingers 
— useless,  useless.  Then  she  fell  upon  her  knees,  rocking 
herself  to  and  fro  in  an  agony  of  fear. 

Suddenly,  like  an  inspiration,  she  lifted  her  eyes  and  her 
gaze  encountered  the  window  at  the  further  end  of  the 
apartment;  and  in  an  instant  she  had  reached  it  and  flung 
back  the  heavy  curtain,  and  was  pressing  against  the  sash. 

It  yielded  to  her  touch,  and  she  quickly  raised  it;  and 
as  she  did  so  a  heavy  gust  of  wind  and  blinding  snow- 
flakes  swept  into  the  room,  extinguishing  the  lamp  on  the 
mantel— -leaving  Leonie  in  utter  darkness. 

"  Oh,  Father  in  heaven!"  cried  Leonie,  tremulously, 
"  guide  me  and  protect  me.  Shall  I  leap  from  this  win* 
dow  into  unknown  dangers  which  may  await  me  below,  or 
shall  I  remain  here  in  this  room  until  my  enemy  returns? 
Oh,  no,  no,  no!  a  thousand  times  no!"  she  cried;  "bet 
ter  death  than  that!" 

Leonie  leaned  far  out  of  the  window  as  she  spoke,, 
stretching  her  arms  appealingly  out  into  the  terrible  stonrj 
and  impenetrable  darkness  of  the  night 

At  that  moment  her  hand  struck  against  something 
resting  against  th^^utfiide^wuU.^wMcb.  seemed  to  be  fast* 


LEONIE    LOOKE.  23 

f 

ened  quite  securely,  and  in  a  moment  Leonie  realized  that 
it  must  be  a  fire-escape. 

At  that  instant  the  sound  of  returning  footsteps  smote 
upon  her  ear.  In  moments  of  great  peril  resolves  are  in* 
stantly  made  and  acted  upon,  and  scarcely  daring  to  think 
of  the  great  peril  to  which  she  might  be  committing  her- 
seif,  Leonie  climbed  out  upon  the  window-sill,  and  with 
another  sobbing,  piteous  appeal  for  protection,  firmly 
grasped  the  rounds  of  the  ladder  and  began  her  perilous 
descent. 

Down,  down,  through  the  terrible  storm,  the  intense 
cold,  and  the  darkness,  Leonie  made  her  way  with  wonder* 
ful  rapidity  born  of  fear.  She  had  not  made  her  exit  one 
instant  too  soon,  for  a  moment  later  Charlie  Hart  entei  ed 
the  room. 

She  could  hear  his  exclamation  of  intense  surprise  and 
anger  upon  finding  the  room  in  total  darkness,  and  the 
draught  from  the  open  window  hurling  papers  indiscrim 
inately  about  the  room. 

Leonie  gasped  in  terrible  fear  as  she  heard  him  call  hex 
name;  a  moment  later  a  lantern  appeared  at  the  window, 
and  she  saw  him  holding  it  out  at  arm's-length,  attempt 
ing  to  pierce  the  intense  darkness  below  with  its  feeble 
light. 

Leonie  knew  that  he  could  not  see  her,  yet  the  situation 
was  a  thrilling  one. 

Her  little  hands  relaxed  their  hold,  and  with  a  stifled 
3rv  Leonie  lost  her  balance,  and  was  precipitated  headlong 
to  the  ground  below;  but  owing  to  the  deep  drift  of  snow 
Leonie  was  comparatively  unhurt. 

The  sudden  fall  had  stunned  her  for  a  moment  only. 

In  an  instant  she  had  gained  her  feet,  and  was  hurrying 
rapidly  toward  the  nearest  lamp-post  to  determine,  if  pos 
sible,  in  what  locality  she  was,  and  to  her  surprise  she 
iound  she  was  scarcely  ten  minutes'  walk  from  her  home. 

"  Poor  dear  papaAska  sighed*,  as  she  crept  up  the  stairs 


34  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

that  lad  to  their  lonely  lodgings.  "  I  wonder  if  he  awakened 

and  missed  me?" 

She  pushed  open  the  door  and  entered  noiselessly. 

Allan  Locke  lay  just  as  she  had  left  him,  still  clutching 
the  pen  in  one  hand,  and  his  head  resting  heavily  on  the 
other. 

A  chill  foreboding  of  coming  evil  crept  over  Leonie  a& 
she  gazed  upon  him,  advancing  slowly  toward  the  bed. . 

44  Papa,  dear  papa/'  she  called  softly,  yet  with  a  thrill 
of  fear  in  her  voice. 

The  dark  eyes  did  not  unclose,  and  the  cold  lips  did  not 
smile  upon  her,  or  the  hands  give  back  one  answeriDg 
caress. 

Leonie  bent  over  him  and  gazed  down  into  the  white 
face,  over  which  a  grayish  pallor  lay,  and  pressed  her  lips 
to  the  cold  brow. 

Then  a  terrible  wailing  cry  rang  out  on  the  night  air: 

"  Oh,  father,  father!    Heaven  help  me,  he  is  dead!" 

and  Leonie  fell  to  the  floor  in  a  death-like  swoon. 

*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

For  a  week  Leonie's  hovered  between  life  and  death,  and 
when  at  last  she  returned  to  consciousness  she  found  that 
her  father  had  already  been  laid  at  rest,  and  she  had  been 
removed  to  the  house  of  a  kindly  neighbor. 

"  1  am  all  alone  in  the  world  now/'  sobbed  Leonie,  lay 
ing  her  curly  head  back  upon  the  pillow.  "  Oh,  papa, 
why  did  you  leave  me  here  to  battle  alone  with  the  pitiless 
world?  I  wish  that  1  had  died  too. " 

Poor  Leonie,  so  young,  so  utterly  friendless,  and  so 
beautiful,  with  a  beauty  which  was  destined  to  prove  so 
cruel  a  curse,  it  would  have  been  better  if  she  had  died 
then  and  there,  than  lived  to  face  the  fate  that  was  so  soon 
to  overtake  her. 

Mrs.  Williams,  the  kind  neighbor  who  had  taken  charge 
of  Leonie,  was  delighted  when  she  was  able  to  ait  up  in 
the  big  arm-chair  ]&  th«  window*. 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  2$ 

"*  Here  is  a  letter  that  came  for  yon,  my  dear,  the  next 
day  after  you  were  taken  so  ill,"  she  said,  placing  an  en 
velope  into  her  hand.  "  I  hope  it  will  bring  you  good 
news." 

A  crimson  flush  crept  over  Leonie's  pale  cheek  as  she 
saw  at  a  glance  the  cut  upon  the  envelope  representing  the 
importing  house  of  "  Lincoln  &  Carlisle. " 

"  It  is  from  Mr.  Carlisle,"  she  murmured,  and  the 
beautiful  pink  tint  in  the  girl's  face  deepened  as  she  re 
membered  how  nobly  handsome  Gordon  Carlisle  had  res 
cued  her  from  Charlie  Hart's  insult,  and  how  kind  and 
considerate  he  had  been  during  that  homeward  ride. 

"  He  has  sent  for  me  to  come  back  now,"  thought 
Leonie;  "  he  said  he  would  not  need  me  for  a  week,  and 
it  has  just  been  one  week  to-day.  How  thankful  I  am 
that  I  have  a  situation  awaiting  me  this  cold,  dreary  wintei 
morning." 

Leonie  hastily  tore  open  the  envelope,  little  dreaming  of 
the  disappointment  in  store  for  her. 

There  were  only  a  few  cold,  curt  lines,  which  read  as 
follows: 

"  Miss  LEONIE  LOCKE: 

"  DEAR  MADAME, — We  have  concluded  not  to  use  a  cor 
respondent  in  our  office  at  present,  therefore  your  services 
will  not  be  required.  It  is  unnecessary  for  you  to  call  at 
the  office  in  reference  to  the  matter,  as  this  is  our  final 
decision.  Yours  very  respectfully, 

"  LINCOLN  &  CARLISLE." 

No  cry  issued  from  Leonie's  white  set  lips,  she  only  sat 
and  stared  at  the  letter  with  the  most  miserable  expression 
in  her  beautiful  eyes  that  ever  expressed  the  cruel  torture 
of  crushed  hope  and  deathless  despair. 

Heaven  help  her!  she  had  staked  her  all  upon  Gordon 
Carlisle's  friendship  and  pity,  and  she  had  lost 

what's  the  matter.  Leonie?"  cried  Mrs.  Will- 


26  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

iams,  as  she  entered  the  room  a  moment  later  with  he* 
daughter  Emma.  "  I  hope  you  haven't  had  bad  news, 
and  you  just  getting  over  the  worst  spell  of  sickness  that  I 
ever  saw. 3y 

"  I  have  had  the  worst  possible  news,  Mrs.  Williams/' 
sobbed  Leonie,  putting  the  letter  in  her  hand.  "  I  have 
lost  the  situation  I  was  telling  you  about  yesterday,  and 
now  I  am  left  destitute,  houseless,  homeless,  penniless!" 

"  I  wonder  what  made  them  change  their  mind  so  sud 
denly  about  taking  you?"  said  Mrs.  "Williams,  suddenly. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Leonie,  drearily;  "  he  says  he 
won't  need  me." 

"Pshaw!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  "Williams,  "don't  yon  be 
lieve  that;  let  me  tell  you  there's  something  back  of  it; 
when  you  get  a  short,  curt  note  of  dismissal  like  that, 
there's  some  other  reason,  you  can  depend  on  it.  Cheer 
up,  poor  child,  the  Lord  will  find  you  another  place." 

"  I'll  try  and  get  you  into  our  shop,  Leonie,"  said 
Emma,  stooping  over  her  and  smoothing  back  the  disor 
dered  brown  curls.  "  There's  a  rush  of  work  just  now, 
and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  I  could  get  you  right  in;  and 
when  you  do  get  in  you  stand  a  chance  of  working  up  in 
the  business,  and  the  pay  is  splendid;  just  think  of  it — 
eight  dollars  a  week." 

"  What  kind  of  a  shop  is  it,  Emma — I  mean,  what  kind 
of  work  is  it  you  have  to  do?"  asked  Leonie,  brightening 
up  considerably  from  her  utter  despair  at  a  prospect  of  re- 
lel 

"  It's  a  hat  factory,"  replied  Emma;  "  we  sew  in  the 
linings  and  bind  the  felt  hats.  The  girls  in  our  shop  are  a 
jolly  set,  every  one  of  'em,  and  I  know  you'd  like  it 
there." 

Leonie  looked  out  of  the  window  with  a  weary  sigh. 

"  I'll  go  with  you  and  try  to  get  in,  Emma,"  she  said. 

Both  to  the  delight  of  Leonie  and  Emma,  her  services 
*ere  accepted,  and^thejirst  week  rolled  rapidly  by,  bring- 


LEOHTE    LOCKE.  2 

ing  that  day  which  is  always  looked  forward  to  so  eagerly 
by  every  working-girl — Saturday. 

Six  o'clock  came,  and  as  the  factory  bell  commenced 
striking  the  boy  came  around  with  the  little  envelopes 
which  contained  the  week's  wages. 

"  I  never  open  mine  until  I  get  home,  for  fear  I  might 
be  tempted  to  spend  some,"  said  Emma,  gayly,  "  but 
you  can  open  yours,  Leonie,  just  for  fun,  to  see  how  muci 
they  have  given  you  for  the  first  week;  new  hands  don't 
get  much  the  first  week,  it  takes  'em  that  long  to  learn. " 

Leonie  opened  the  envelope;  it  contained  a  five-dollar 
bill  and  a  folded  paper  upon  which  was  printed  with  s 
type- writer: 

"  Miss  Leonie  Locke  is  herewith  discharged.     We  have 

concluded  to  dispense  with  her  services." 

******* 

Meanwhile,  at  the  very  moment  Leonie  stood  in  tht 
work-room  of  the  hat  factory  reading  her  dismissal,  Goi* 
don  Carlisle,  in  seal-bound  overcoat  and  gloves,  and  a 
jaunty  sealskin  cap  pushed  back  on  his  fair  curling  hair, 
emerged  from  his  carriage  and  ran  lightly  up  the  steps  of 
the  house  in  Henry  Street  where  he  had  left  Leonie  on  thq 
evening  he  had  taken  her  home,  and  after  consulting  a 
card  which  he  held  in  his  hand  to  make  sure  that  he  was  at 
the  right  number,  hastily  touched  the  bell. 

"  Can  I  see  Miss  Leonie  Lo*ke,  please?"  he  asked 
politely  of  the  woman  who  answered  the  summons. 

"No  such  person  lives  here,"  she  answered,  eying  the 
handsome,  stylish  young  man  before  her  suspiciously. 
<€  We  have  just  moved  in,  and  that  was  not  the  name  of 
the  family  who  moved  out  last  week.  Plenty  of  young 
girls  in  the  city  are  up  to  just  that  sort  of  a  dodge,  giving 
numbers  they  have  never  lived  at.  You  can  read  of  serv* 
ant-girls  doing  it  in  every  paper  you  pick  up.  Excuse  me> 
but  I  rather  think  you're  bean  tricked,  sir,"  added  tk* 
woman,  closing  the 


28  LEOXIE    LOCKE. 

Too  astonished  to  make  further  comment,  the 
young  merchant  turned,  ran  lightly  down  the  steps,  and 
re-entered  his  carriage. 

"  Heavens!  can  it  be  possible  that  a  young  girl  with  a 
face  as  pure  and  innocent  as  hers  could  have  willfully  de 
ceived  me?"  he  thought,  with  grave,  troubled  eyes. 

All  that  week  he  had  been  expecting  her  to  put  in  an 
appearance,  and  at  last  his  anxiety  reached  that  point  that 
he  determined  to  see  for  himself  what  had  detained  her. 

All  that  week,  in  the  midst  of  his  business,  in  crowded 
parlors,  and  even  in  his  dreams,  a  sweet  girlish  young  face 
framed  in  a  mass  of  curling  brown  hair  had  been  constant 
ly  before  him  —  the  beautiful,  pleading  face  of  Leonid 
Locke. 


CHAPTER  V. 

"  LOOK,  Emma,"  cried  Leonie,  in  a  low,  gasping  voice, 
"  I  am  discharged.  Oh,  what  have  1  done,  Emma,  to  de 
serve  this?  I  tried  so  hard  to  please  them.  An  evil  fate 
seems  to  be  following  me. " 

"  Just  you  stay  here  a  minute,  Leonie/'  cried  Emma 
Williams,  indignantly,  "  and  I'll  go  to  the  office  myself 
and  see  what  they  discharged  you  for.  I  can  find  out,  if 
any  one  can!"  and  away  she  went,  leaving  Leonie  faint 
and  trembling,  standing  in  the  deserted  work-room  until 
she  returned. 

When  Emma  came  back,  her  face  was  flushed  with 
mortification,  and  there  were  tears  in  her  honest  blue  eyes 
which  flashed  so  indignantly. 

"  What  was  it  for,  Emma?"  cried  Leonie,  anxiously. 
"  Tell  me  how  1  displeased  them." 

But  the  girl  turned  away  with  something  like  a  sob. 

"  I  don't  want  to  tell  you  what  it  was  for,  Leonie,  un 
less  you  actually  insist  upon  it;  for  it  will  grieve  me  as 
much  to  tell  it  as  it  oilLvoi* 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  3ft 

"Never  mind  my  feelings/'  replied  Leonie,  drearily ? 
"  go  on,  Emma,  tell  me  all.  I  am  used  to  rebuffs  and 
hardships  of  late.  It  will  not  matter  much. " 

Emma  Williams  turned  away  and  hid  her  face  with 
painful  embarrassment,  as  she  answered,  slowly: 

"  Oh,  Leonie,  they  say  you  are  not  quite  respectable 
enough  to  be  among  the  other  girls  here;  for  above  all 
other  things  they  must  and  will  have  respectable  em 
ployes  in  their  establishment." 

They  had  reached  the  pavement  while  they  were  talk 
ing,  and  Leonie  stopped  short,  her  face  as  white  as  the 
snow-drifts  lying  so  coldly  around  her. 

**  What  do  they  say  I  have  done,  Emma?"  she  asked; 
and  her  voice  sounded  scarcely  human,  there  was  such. 
a  pitiful  wail  of  agony  in  it.  "  Never  mind  my  feel 
ings,  Emma.  I  have  suffered  so  much  they  are  deadened 
now.  Tell  me  what  it  is  they  accuse  me  of  doing. " 

"  They  said  they  had  positive  and  reliable  proof  that  you 
were  seen  at  midnight  where  no  respectable  young  girl 
would  have  been  on  the  night  your  father  died.  I  indig 
nantly  denied  such  a  base  falsehood  for  you,  Leonie;  and 
our  proprietor  told  me,  at  last,  that  if  you  could  prove, 
beyond  a  doubt,  that  the  story  was  untrue,  he  would  take 
you  back — but  not  unless  you  could  do  so.  You  can  sure 
ly  prove  it  was  false,  can't  yon,  Leonie?"  cried  Emma, 
earnestly.  "  I  knew  you  could  prove  differently,  and  I 
triumphantly  told  him  so. " 

A  dead  whiteness  had  slowly  settled  over  Leonie 's  face, 
and  she  would  have  fallen  if  Emma  had  not  put  out  her 
arm  and  caught  her,  whispering  words  of  sympathy  that 
brought  back  new  life  to  poor  Leonie's  breaking  heart. 
Still,  she  knew  Emma  was  waiting  in  painful  anxiety  for 
her  answer.  Heaven  help  her,  what  was  she  to  say  or  do? 

A  troubled  look  had  crept  into  Emma's  eyes;  and  a)- 
though  she  was  perfectly  loyal  to  Leonie  in  thought  an<? 
action,  she  could  not  help  but  admit  to  herself  that 


30  LEOKIE    LOCKE. 

Leonie's  silence  certainly  looked  suspicions.  Any  young 
girl  who  was  innocent  would  have  contradicted  such  a 
story  at  once,  and  would  have  been  anxious  to  prove  her 
words  and  clear  all  shadow  from  her  fair  name. 

Leonie  had  been  stopping  with  Mrs.  Williams  since 
;hat  fatal  night.  Soon  after  they  reached  home,  Leonie 
could  hear  Emma  relating  the  whole  story  to  her  mother 
in  a  low  whisper  in  an  adjoining  room,  and  when  moth 
er  and  daughter  called  hex  in  to  supper  a  few  moments 
later,  she  saw  at  a  glance  their  feelings  had  changed  to 
ward  her,  and,  as  she  expected,  Mrs.  Williams  soon 
broached  the  dreaded  subject.  Hiding  her  face  in  her 
hands,  Leonie,  through  her  sobs,  told  them  the  whole  piti 
ful  story. 

But  the  story  had  little  weight  with  the  worldly  Mrs. 
Williams.  Alas,  in  moments  of  trouble  women  are  always 
the  first  to  turn  against  their  sister  women;  men,  thank 
God,  are  humane  and  pitying. 

The  very  fact  that  Leonie  admitted  having  been  in  Char 
lie  Hart's  apartments,  at  the  time  specified,  convicted  poor 
Leonie  in  the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Williams.  She  did  not  believe 
the  story  of  the  note  which  had  been  used  as  a  decoy,  antf 
the  still  stranger  story  Leonie  had  told  of  her  thrilling  <f 
cape. 

"  She  can  not  prove  her  innocence  and  she  is  getting  out 
of  it  the  best  way  she  can/'  muttered  Mrs.  Williams  un£ 
her  breath. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you/'  said  Mrs.  Williams,  coldly,  "  you 
are  so  young,  and  you  look  so  beautiful  and  innocent. 
Beauty  is  a  curse  sometimes.  1  thank  God  my  Emma  is 
plain;  she  don't  attract  the  attention  of  men  as  pretty 
faces  do.  And  I  had  rather  know  she  is  an  honest,  re 
spectable,  God-fearing  working-girl,  than  to  know  she  was 
a  queen  on  her  throne  if  dishonor  gained  it  for  her.  I  am 
sorry  to  turn  you  away  from  the  house,  Miss  Locke,  but, 
ot  course,  if  yoc.  could  go  to  another  place  as  soon  as  possi- 


LOCKE.  31 

foi'e  1  should  like  it.    1  am  very  caref  nl  what  kind  of  people 
I  allow  my  Emma  to  associate  with;  I — " 

"  You  have  said  enough,  Mrs.  Williams/'  cried  Leonie, 
rising  from  the  tea-table,  her  untasted  supper  still  lying 
on  her  plate.  "  1  shall  go  at  once — anywhere — anywhere 
— away  from  here.  I  could  not  eat  a  mouthful  of  your 
food;  it  would  choke  me.  You  have  done  cruel  injustice 
to  an  innocent  girl.  Appearances  are  against  me,  I  know, 
but  God  knows  I  am  as  innocent  of  ever  having  committed 
ft  wrong  as  your  own  daughter.  I  believed  you  were  my 
friends,  but  I  find  when  trouble  besets  an  unprotected  girl, 
those  who  should  have  been  her  friends  in  her  darkest  hour 
of  sorrow  are  often  the  first  to  turn  coldly  from  her. 
Good-bye,  Mrs.  Williams;  good-bye,  Emma;  I  am  going 
now;"  and  as  neither  mother  nor  daughter  sought  to  stay 
her  steps  that  cold  bitter  night,  Leonie  took  down  her  hat 
and  sacque,  put  them  on,  and  with  weary  feet  and  a  still 
wearier  heart  poor  Leonie,  the  child  of  misfortune,  made 
her  way  out  into  the  street. 

Poor,  tender-hearted  Emma  was  quietly  crying  for  the 
wretched  girl;  but  she  dared  not  disobey  her  mother's 
orders  "  not  to  interfere,  as  she  must  be  gotten  rid  of  at 
once. " 

'    "  I  know  she  is  a  good,  innocent  girl,"  sobbed  Emma, 
*'  and  I  believe  her,  too/' 

"  Hush!"  replied  Mrs.  Williams,  turning  suddenly 
around  upon  her  daughter.  "  What  do  you  know  of  the 
ways  of  the  world?  It's  always  these  innocent-appearing 
ones  that  are  the  worst.  Don't  talk  to  me  of  the  inno 
cence  of  a  girl  who  leaves  her  old  father  alone  at  midnight 
and  is  seen  where  no  respectable  girl  would  have  been — in 
a  bachelor's  apartments." 

Emma  sighed  and  turned  away.  Leonie  Locke  had 
seemed  to  her  as  pure  and  good  as  she  was  beautiful,  and 
the  tender-hearted  pW  i»niild  h&*e  .been  willing  to  have 


52  LBOKIE    LOCKE. 

given  her  the  benefit  of  the  doubt  if  her  mother  had  not  so 
persistently  settled  the  subject. 

"Oh,  Hearen  help  me!  Where  shall  I  go  now?" 
thought  Leonie,  desperately,  gazing  up  and  down  the  cold, 
drear,  lamplit  street. 

She  had  not  one  friend  in  the  great,  cold,  cruel  world  to 
turn  to  for  sympathy. 

Should  she  wander  up  and  down  the  cold  street  until 
daylight?  she  asked  herself.  If  she  did,  would  she  lire 
through  the  long,  bitter  cold  night?  Perhaps  they  would 
find  her,  on  the  monow,  lying  stiff  and  cold  in  the  snow, 
as  they  had  found  the  body  of  poor  Gretchen  that  cold 
Christmas  morning.  Then,  perhaps,  those  who  had  show 
ered  such  pitiless  suspicion  on  her  innocent  head  would 
know  that  they  had  driven  her  to  it — driven  a  young  soul, 
by  their  cruel  persecutions,  through  the  gates  of  death! 

Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  all  her  sorrow,  the  face  of 
Gordon  Carlisle  rose  up  before  her  with  its  grave,  earnest 
smile,  so  gentle  and  so  kind,  and  a  strange  resolve  oc 
curred  to  her  to  go  to  him  to-night  and  plead  with  him  to 
take  her  back  again  in  his  employ. 

She  remembered  Emma  had  pointed  out  a  magnificent 
residence  on  the  Heights,  telling  her  that  was  the  home  of 
young  Mr.  Carlisle  who  had  so  cruelly  turned  her  adrift; 
and  in  that  direction  Leonie  turned  steps. 

Perhaps  it  will  be  as  well  to  explain  now  what  the 
reader  has  already  surmised.  The  cruel,  curt  note  of  dis 
missal  which  Leonie  had  received  from  the  fur  establish 
ment  of  Lincoln  &  Carlisle  had  been  the  cunning  work  of 
Charlie  Hart,  the  enraged,  discharged  foreman,  who  readily 
imagined  his  handsome  young  employer  would,  through 
pity,  re-engage  the  young  girl  whom  he  had  interest 
enough  in  to  protect. 

Like  a  dark,  evil  shadow,  Charlie  Hart  had  dogged 
Leonie *s  footsteps,  vowing  to  himself  he  would  have  full 
revenge  upon  her  for  escaDing.  from  hi™  so  cleverly. 


LEONTE    LOCKE.  33 

Me  would  drive  her  from  place  to  place,  securing  her 
dismissal  by  eorne  pretext,  until,  heart-broken  and  utterly 
discouraged  with  her  valiant  attempt  to  earn  her  own  liv 
ing,  she  would  turn  to  him  at  last,  too  weary  to  struggle 
against  the  coils  of  the  fatal  web  he  had  woven  around  her. 

Weary,  faint,  and  numb  with  cold,  Leonie  at  last 
reached  the  house,  timidly  ascended  the  marble  steps  and 
rang  the  bell,  which  was  answered  by  a  liveried  servant, 
who  smiled  rather  broadly  as  Leonie  made  known  her 
errand. 

"  Lord  bless  you,  miss,  Master  Carlisle  wouldn't  see  you 
if  you  came  here  with  your  coach-and-four  to-night!  I've 
my  orders  never  to  disturb  him  after  business  hours.  You 
can  see  him  at  his  office,  over  in  New  York,  on  Monday.'' 

4'  Tell  him  I  must  see  him/'  cried  Leonie,  desperately 
"  I  am  sure  he  will  see  me,  if  for  only  a  moment,  if  you 
go  and  tell  him  it  is  Leonie  Locke  who  wishes  to  see  him." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

**  TELL  Mr.  Carlisle  I  must  see  him,"  repeated  Leonie, 
faintly,  *'  I  will  detain  him  but  a  moment,  my  case  is  very 
imperative." 

At  that  moment  a  handsome  young  girl  in  shimmering 
Bilk,  with  an  opera-cloak  lying  over  her  white,  rounded 
arm  came  tripping  lightly  down  the  corridor. 

John/'  she  called,  imperatively,  giving  her  golden 
oead  such  a  toss,  that  the  diamonds  in  her  ears  twinkled 
like  stars,  "go  at  once  and  tell  Gordon  that  I  am  ready 
now;  we  must  make  haste  or  the  first  act  of  the  opera  will 
be  over  before  we  get  there."' 

Quite  heedless  of  what  she  did  in  her  intense  excitement, 
Leonie  pushed  past  the  servant  toward  where  the  young 
girl  stood. 

"  She  is  young  like  I  am/'  thought  Leonie;  "  she  wffl 
have  pity  on  me  apdJet.me  seeJxim/' 


84  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Leonie,  with  a  brave  attempt 
to  stifle  the  sob  that  seemed  to  almost  choke  her  utterance. 
*fc  1  wanted  to  see  Mr.  Carlisle  so  badly  I  could  not  take  a 
refusal;  you  at  least  will  pity  me  and  obtain  for  me  an  in 
terview  with  him. " 

Dora  Lancaster's  keen  gray  eyes  expanded  coldly  h) 
w«U-bred  surprise. 

**  I  must  refer  you  to  the  servant  at  the  door,"  she  re 
plied,  icily,  drawing  her  silken  robe  from  contact  with  the 
blue  merino  dress  with  her  white  jeweled  fingers.  "  John 
is  no  doubt  acting  in  accordance  with  his  master's  wishes 
in  refusing  to  grant  you  an  interview  with  him.  I  am  sur 
prised  that  you  should  have  taken  the  liberty  of  insisting 
upon  it;  1  am  more  than  surprised,  I  am  amazed.  Kindly 
allow  me  to  pass,  if  you  please. " 

Dora  Lancaster  was  naturally  kind  of  heart,  and  if 
Leonie  had  been  old  and  plain,  coming  to  her  with  such  a 
piteous  appeal,  the  chances  are  that  she  would  have  inter 
ceded  in  her  behalf  at  once;  but  the  girl  before  her  was 
young,  with  a  face  as  beautiful  as  a  poet's  dream.  She  was 
pleading  for  an  interview  with  Gordon  Carlisle,  the  man 
this  haughty  beauty  loved  with  such  a  mad,  passionate, 
jealous  love,  and  she  instantly  decided  Gordon  should  not 
see  her  if  she  could  prevent  it. 

With  a  look  of  unutterable  misery  on  her  face  Leonie 
turned  away,  but  in  a  moment  Dora  Lancaster  was  beside 
her  again  with  luridly  flashiDg  eyes. 

44  Why  do  you  wish  to  see  Gordon  Carlisle  so  particular 
ly?"  she  asked,  eagerly.  "  What  is  he  to  you  that  yon 
dare  take  the  liberty  of  insisting  upon  seeing  him?  Answer 
me  at  once — 1  will  know  who  you  are  and  what  you  want 
of  him." 

"  I  am  Leonie  Locke,"  replied  the  poor  girl,  with  a 
weary  sigh;  "  but  as  to  why  I  am  here  it  would  be  useless 
to  explain  to  you^yoU-  wto  have  so  little  pity.  Ma? 


LEOKIE    LOCKE.  & 

Heaven  be  more  merciful  to  you  in  your  hour  of  need  than 
yon  have  been  to  me." 

"You  impudent  creature!"  cried  Dora,  stamping  hey 
foot,  white  to  the  lips  with  anger;  "  how  dare  you  come 
into  my  guardian's  house  and  insult  me.  If  Gordon  or  his 
father  knew  it  they  would  throw  you  out  into  the  street. 
Put  that  girl  out  at  once,  John,"  she  screamed;  "  and  if 
you  ever  allow  an  insulting  beggar  like  that  to  get  as  much 
as  a  foothold  in  the  house  again,  it  will  be  as  much  as  your 
place  is  worth!" 

"  He  need  not  put  me  out,"  responded  Leonie,  with 
calm  dignity.  "  1  will  go  myself  and  I  shall  never  darken 
your  door  again;"  and  drawing  her  cloak  still  closer  aboufc 
her  shivering  form,  Leonie  turned  from  the  warmth,  the 
elegance,  and  brightness  of  that  home  out  into  the  drea/ 
cold  of  the  frozen  night  again. 

But  fate  did  not  intend  that  Leonie  should  leave  thai? 
home  so  soon.  Numb  with  the  cold  and  her  eyes  blinded 
by  tears,  Leonie  missed  her  footing  and  went  whirling 
down  the  marble  steps,  striking  the  pavement  with  a  dull 
thud  just  as  a  haughty,  stern-faced  elderly  gentleman  was 
preparing  to  ascend  them. 

John,  who  still  stood  with  the  door  open,  as  he  saw  his 
master,  John  Carlisle,  coming  up  the  steps,  immediately 
rushed  to  Leonie's  rescue. 

"  "Who  is  that  girl,  and  what  did  she  want  here?"  asked 
Mr.  Carlisle,  frowning  deeply. 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,"  replied  the  man;  "she  said  she 
wanted  to  see  your  son  Gordon;  but,  of  course,  I  didn't 
call  him,  because  I  saw  by  her  clothes  she  must  be  only  a 
working-girl,  and  1  thought  she  could  wait  and  see  him  afc 
the  office  on  Monday.  Besides,  Miss  Dora  was  in  <*  hurry 
for  Master  Gordon  to  go  to  the  opera  with  her. " 

"  Take  her  down  to  the  servants'  hall,"  commanded 
Mr.  Carlisle,  "  and  let  me  know  when  she  returns  to  con- 
Bciousnea&" 


86  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

And  with  these  words  the  crusty  old  millionaire  walked 
up  the  marble  steps  and  into  the  house,  closing  the  oatei 
door  of  the  vestibule  with  a  bang. 

"  What  a  terrible  thing  to  be  annoyed  by  these  working- 
people  after  business  hours,  and  at  one's  own  house,  too,"" 
he  muttered,  angrily,  drawing  off  his  fur  gloves  and  over 
coat  and  sinking  down  into  the  depths  of  a  soft  cushioned 
chair  before  the  grate. 

"What  could  she  have  wanted  of  Gordon?"  he  mused, 
st  Surely,"  he  cried,  striking  his  hand  heavily  on  the  arm 
of  his  chair,  "  the  boy  hasn't  been  getting  into  any  in' 
trigues  with  the  girls  in  his  employ." 

Then  another  thought  still  more  startling  seemed  to 
occur  to  him  as  he  remembered  the  rare  beauty  of  the 
white  young  face,  framed  in  the  soft,  brown  curls  as  the 
servant  had  borne  Leonie  away. 

*'  Surely  the  boy  kas  not  been  hot-headed  enough  to  fall 
in  love  with  the  girl's  pretty  face,  and  been  rash  enough  to 
propose  marriage  to  her,"  he  cried,  starting  up  from  hia 
chair  and  pacing  the  luxurious  room  hurriedly  to  and  fro. 
"No,  no,"  he  muttered,  beneath  his  breath,  "Gordon 
must  marry  Dora  Lancaster  whether  he  will  or  nofc,  and  be 
secure  in  the  possession  of  a  fortune.  Secure!"  he  re* 
peated,  dwelling  long  and  earnestly  upon  the  word. 
"  Heavens,  what  a  blessed  feeling  ifc  is  to  feel  secure.  For 
fifteen  years  I  have  stood  on  the  edge  of  a  precipice,  defy 
ing  fate  itself,  and  I  have  dared  and  accomplished  what  no 
living  man  has  ever  accomplished  before.  Ah!  if  Gordon 
only  knew  all — he  is  so  hot-headed  and  with  such  a  foolish 
sense  of  honor,  there  is  no  telling  what  steps  he  might 
take.  He  shall  never  know,  1  will  carry  the  secret  with 
me  down  to  the  grave.  Yet,  in  case  anything  should  hap 
pen  in  after  years,  it  would  be  well  if  Gordon  still  had  a 
socure  fortune  in  his  possession.  And  for  that  reason  he 
shall  marry  Dora  Lancaster,  no  matter  what  the  cost 
be  in  bringing  it  about." 


LEONTE    LOCKE.  8? 

At  that  moment  John  stack  his  head  in  at  the  door-way. 

*'  I  knocked,  but  1  guess  you  didn't  hear  me,  sir.  The 
gik'l's  come  to;  but  there's  a  pretty  bad  cut  on  her  head, 
sir,  and  her  ankle's  either  broken  or  sprained.  The  house 
keeper  thinks  she's  too  bad  to  be  moved.  If  she  were  taken 
out  into  the  cold,  she  thinks  the  girl  might  die." 

"  Where  is  she — down-stairs?  Well,  lead  the  way.  1 
wiJl  go  down  and  see  who  she  is  and  what  she  wants.  The 
hospital  is  the  place  for  such  people;  but,  of  course,  if  she 
can  not  be  moved,  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  submit  to  the 
annoyance.  Say  nothing  to  my  wife  or  son  about  this 
affair." 

Leonie  was  lying  back  among  the  snowy  ruffled  pillows 
ti  the  housekeeper's  room,  pale  as  a  snow-flake,  yet  won- 
drously  fair  and  delicate  in  the  softened  shaded  light  of 
the  night-lamp,  and  John  Carlisle  could  not  help  but  no 
tice  how  pretty  she  was  as  he  advanced  toward  the  bed.  A 
little  bundle,  which  Leonie  had  carried  in  her  hand,  lay  on 
fcho  bed  beside  her.  At  the  sound  of  approaching  foot 
steps,  Leonie's  beautiful  brown  eyes  flashed  wide  open, 
and  at  that  instant  John  Carlisle  reached  the  bedside  and 
mot  their  inquiring  gaze. 

The  effect  upon  the  old  millionaire  was  electrical.  His 
faoe  turned  an  ashen,  livid  hue,  his  knees  shook  under 
him,  and  he  fairly  gasped  for  breath,  and  his  burning 
eyes  seemed  fairly  devouring  with  concentrated  and  intense 
fury  the  beautiful  young  face  turned  so  innocently  and 
wonderingly  toward  him. 

But  with  a  great  effort  he  recovered  something  like  his 
old  self-possession. 

'*  Who  are  you?"  he  cried,  hoarsely,  steadying  his 
shaking  hand  against  the  back  of  a  chair.  "  Shut  your 
eyes— don't  look  up  at  me  with  them — and  tell  me  what 
brings  you  here  across  my  threshold.  What  did  you  want 
of  my  son?" 

"  I  am  Leonie  Locke*"  cried  the  girl,  shrinking  closer 


48  LEONIE     LOCKE. 

down  among  the  pillows,  terrified  to  faintness  at  tbs 
gathering  fury  she  read  on  the  stern,  angered  face  bending 
over  her. 

*'  I  knew  it — I  knew  it!  Allan  Locke's  daughter!"  he 
•shrieked,  quite  forgetful  of  his  haughty  pride.  "  And  you 
have  dared  to  cross  my  threshold.  If  I  could  turn  you 
out  into  the  streets  this  very  moment,  I  would  do  it!  But 
there  is  one  thing  I  warn  you  against/'  he  hissed,  menac 
ingly,  leaning  nearer  toward  the  frightened,  fainting  girl. 
"  1  warn  you  to  make  no  attempt  to  see  my  son  Gordon! 
If  you  do—" 

Alas!  it  was  too  late  for  warnings,  Gordon  Carlisle  was 
already  on  the  threshold. 


CHAPTER  VU. 

As  Leonie  had  stepped  out  into  the  darkness,  Dora 
Lancaster  had  turned  quickly  and  gone  directly  toward 
the  library  where  she  knew  she  would  find  Gordon  Carlisle. 

Yes,  he  was  there,  sitting  by  the  table,  his  handsome 
nead  resting  idly  on  his  slim,  white  hand,  upon  which  a 
handsome  solitaire  diamond  gleamed  like  a  coal  of  fire, 
restlessly  turning  over  the  leaves  of  a  book;  yet  for  all 
that  Dora  could  see  he  was  not  reading  one  line  of  it. 

She  stole  up  softly  betide  him,  and  peeped  over  his 
shoulder  at  the  open  page. 

It  was  a  poem.     She  could  read  but  a  portion  of  it: 

"  We  met  only  once,  little  darling — 
Only  once  in  the  crowd,  you  and  I." 

Gordon's  white  hand  was  lying  idly  over  it,  and  beneath  it 
dhe  read  the  closing:  lines: 

"  I've  searched  for  you  since,  like  a  bird  for  its  mate — 
Oh,  where  hast  thou  flown  to,  my  beautiful  fate?" 

Gordon  Carlisle  did  not  dream  of  Dora's  presence,  and  he 
murmured  half  aloud:. 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  39 

"  If  that  poem  were  a  new  one,  I  would  think  it  had 
been  written  for  my  especial  benefit,  for  it  fits  my  case  ex 
actly;"  and  he  repeated  the  lines  in  his  deep,  rich,  musical 
voice: 

"  *  I've  searched  for  you  since,  like  a  bird  for  its  mate — 
Oh,  where  hast  thou  flown  to,  my  beautiful  fate?'  " 

He  sighed  and  murmured  a  name  that  made  Dora  start 
back  with  a  little  angry  cry  that  she  had  tried  in  Yam  to 
suppress.  It  was  the  name  "  Leonie!" 

"  Did  I  interrupt  some  pretty  day-dream,  Gordon?"  she 
asked,  biting  her  red  lips  in  a  cruel  sort  of  way.  "  What 
were  you  reading  that  made  you  so  solemn  and  morose!" 

Gordon  Carlisle  flushed  a  little  and  closed  the  book 
abruptly,  as  he  answered,  dreamily: 

"  It  was  only  a  poem;  but  it  seemed  to  hit  my  case 
exactly." 

*6  Was  it  a  poem  of  some  hero  who  was  very  hard 
hearted?"  asked  Dora,  softly,  laying  her  white  hand  very 
near  his  on  the  table. 

4<  Am  I  to  infer  from  that  remark  you  think  me  hard 
hearted,  Dora?"  he  asked,  taking  the  little  white  hand  in 
his  own,  just  as  a  brother  would  have  done.  "  That  is 
really  quite  unkind  of  you.  What  have  I  ever  done  to  de- 
eerve  such  an  opinion?" 

*'  It  is  what  you  have  iwt  done,"  Dora  mutters,  under 
her  breath.  But  she  changes  the  thought  as  it  leaves  her 
lips,  and  she  says,  with  an  arch  glance  of  coquetry,  as  she 
tosses  back  her  crimped  golden  curls: 

"  I  have  set  you  down  as  more  than  hard-hearted — and 
very  forgetful,  too.  You  do  not  seem  to  remember  you 
invited  me  to  attend  the  opera  this  evening,  and  1  have  to 
come  and  remind  you  of  it  or  stay  at  home." 

In  a  moment  Gordon  was  on  his  feet. 

"  It  was  clearly  an  oversight,  Dora;  you  must  pardon 
me  this  time,  And  I  promise  .vou  I  shall  never  be  so  remiss 


4L  'LEOXIE    LOCK*. 

again.  1  was  lost  in  my  own  thoughts,  and  I  quite  forgot 
the  flight  of  time/' 

"  Then  yon  were  not  thinking  of  me,"  said  Dora,  blush 
ing  redly,  as  she  glanced  at  him  from  beneath  her  long 
lashes  as  he  rose  and  commenced  putting  on  his  overcoat 

"  Could  it  have  been  that  girl  he  was  thinking  of?  Her 
name  was  Leonie,  too,"  thought  Dora,  with  a  twinge  of 
keen  jealousy.  "  I  may  as  well  find  out  at  once.  Gor 
don/'  she  said,  turning  around  toward  him  suddenly  and 
looking  him  searchingly  in  the  face,  "  do  you  know  a 
young  girl  named  Miss  Locke — Leonie  Locke?" 

In  an  instant  all  the  listless  indolence  had  vanished  from 
Gordon  Carlisle's  handsome  face. 

"  What  do  you  know  of  Miss  Locke,  Dora?"  he  asked, 
flushing  eagerly.  "  Why,  I  was  just  thinking  of  her  as 
you  entered  the  room. " 

"  Who  is  she,  Gordon?  Some  millionaire  or  senator's 
daughter,  isn't  she?"  asked  Dora,  with  a  keen  touch  of 
spitefulness. 

"  Miss  Locke  has  no  fortune  that  I  know  of,"  responded 
Gordon,  gravely;  "she  is  dependent  upon  her  own  exer 
tions  for  a  livelihood.  You  certainly  know  her,  Dora. 
How  did  you  happen  to  have  such  a  happy  thought  as  to 
mention  her  to  me  to-night?" 

Dora  Lancaster  sprung  from  her  chair  with  a  shrill  little 
laugh. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  insult  me,  Gordon  Carlisle!"  she  de 
manded,  fairly  quivering  with  rage;  "  to  insinuate  that  I 
choose  my  acquaintances  from  among  working-girls? — I, 
the  last  of  one  of  the  wealthiest  and  noblest  families  that 
ever  graced  New  York  society!  I  shall  never  forgive  you 
for  thinking  so  little  of  me  as  that!  Never,  while  1  live!" 
she  went  on,  recklessly,  her  bitter  jealousy  of  Leonie  in 
creasing  with  every  breathless  word. 

Gordon  Carlisle  gazed  at  the  indignant,  wrathful  beauty 
in  grieved  amazement  too  deeo  for  words,  and  in  that  one 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  41 

moment  all  the  brotherly  liking  he  had  ever  entertained  for 
Dora  Lancaster  died  out  of  his  noble,  chivalrous  heart. 

"  Stop,  Dora/'  he  said,  with  stern  reproof  in  his  voice. 
"  God  forbid  that  you  should  consider  as  a  disgrace  the  ac^ 
quaiutance  of  so  pure  and  noble  a  young  girl  as  Leonie 
Locke,  because  she  is  what  you  term  a  working-girl." 

"That's  right!  champion  the  cause  of  the  working' 
girls/7  sneered  Dora,  tapping  her  foot  nervously  on  the 
relvet  carpet. 

"  I  will,  just  as  long  as  1  live,  Miss  Lancaster,"  replied 
Gordon,  with  cutting  severity  that  struck  straight  home  to 
Dora's  heart;  for  he  had  never  before  called  her  Miss  Lan 
caster,  and  she  felt  it  keenly.  "  My  sympathies  always 
have  been,  and  ever  will  be,  with  those  noble  young  girls 
who  earn  their  bread  by  their  own  honest  labor/'  replied 
Gordon,  gravely;  "and  every  true  gentleman  will  voice 
my  sentiments.  My  respect  and  admiration  for  those 
young  ladies  is  profound,  and  a  king  on  his  throne  might 
be  proud  to  win  a  noble  working-girl  for  a  wife.  And, 
whenever  I  hear  any  one  speak  illy  of  a  working-girl,  I  lose 
my  respect  for  that  person,  for  I  know  that  they  are  shal- 
low  of  heart  and  silly  of  head.  1  am  sorry  you  have  ex' 
pressed  yourself  as  you  have  to-night,  Miss  Lancaster. 
You  have  changed  my  estimate  of  your  tenderness  of  heart 
entirely." 

"  Instead  of  the  opera,  1  have  been  treated  to  a  lecture 
at  home/'  replied  Dora,  spiritedly;  "  but  I  don't  choose  to 
take  up  with  your  advanced  ideas.  And  now  that  you 
have  finished,  I  will  inform  you  how  I  met  Leonie  Locke, 
the  working-girl." 

Gordon  Carlisle's  handsome  face  darkened  and  he  took  a 
step  forward,  but  Dora  did  not  pretend  to  notice  his  rising 
indignation,  and  she  went  on: 

"As  1  was  going  through  the  corridor  half  an  hour  ago, 
1  saw  John  at  the  door  refusing  some  one  admittance,  and 
at  that  moment  the  designing  creator^  saw  me,  and  witb 


42  LEOHIE    LOCKE. 

the  coolest  and  most  ill-bred  familiarity  imaginable  actual 
ly  pushed  rudely  past  John  and  dared  to  address  me — me ! 
It  appears  she  would  not  take  a  refusal  and  had  the  au 
dacity  to  ask  me  to  bring  her  to  you;  but,  of  course,  I  re 
fused  indignantly  to  do  it,  and  ordered  John  to  show  her 
the  door." 

Something  like  an  inkling  of  the  truth  was  flashing 
through  Gordon  Carlisle's  brain,  and  he  asked,  hesitating 
ly,  and  with  strong  emotion: 

"  And  that  young  girl  was — ?" 

"  She  said  her  name  was  Leonie  Locke,"  said  Dora,  v/ith 
a  little  wicked  tantalizing  laugh  that  made  the  blood  leap 
to  Gordon  Carlisle's  face  in  a  rush  of  vivid  color  as  he  re 
plied,  angrily: 

"  Then  you  have  taken  an  unwarrantable  liberty  with 
my  affairs,  Miss  Lancaster.  May  Heaven  forgive  you  for 
turning  that  young  girl  away  from  my  door  on  such  a 
bitter  night  as  this;"  and  as  he  speaks  the  blood  recedes 
from  his  refined,  aristocratic  face,  leaving  it  deathly  pale. 

"It  is  not  your  door,  Gordon;  it  is  your  father's,"  re 
turns  Dora,  saucily,  cresting  her  golden  head  and  looking 
at  him  in  a  way  that  has  never  failed  before  to  bring  him  to 
her  side. 

But  it  fails  now;  Gordon  Carlisle  is  bitterly  angry.  He 
rises  from  his  seat  like  a  flash  and  has  donned  overcoat, 
hat,  and  gloves. 

He  has  forgotten  the  opera  and  the  beautiful,  scornful 
girl  sitting  before  him.  His  heart  is  full  of  a  mad  pain. 
Leonie  Locke,  the  young  girl  whom  he  has  been  searching 
the  whole  city  for  for  more  than  a  week,  has  just  been 
turned  away  from  his  very  door,  and  he  knew  nothing  of  it. 

A  desperate  thought  occurs  to  him  to  go  out  upon  the 
street,  where  perhaps  he  may  overtake  her,  and  tell  her  he 
had  no  hand  in  tk*  cruel  treatment  she  had  received. 

And  Gordon  Carlisle,  usually  so  quiet  and  gentlemanly, 
quits  the  library  with  something  very  like  an  imprecation 


LEOfcTE    LOCKE.  41 

on  his  lips,  never  deigning  one  backward  glance  at  Dora, 
who  still  sat  there  equipped  for  the  opera. 

He  little  dreamed  that  Leonie  at  that  moment  was  lying 
beneath  that  very  roof. 

Dora  laughs  a  little,  cruel  laugh  as  she  goea  slowly  up  to 
her  room  and  flings  off  her  wraps. 

"  1,  a  beauty  and  an  heiress,  insulted  and  slighted  for 
the  sake  of  Leonie  Locke,  a  working-girl,"  she  cries, 
clinching  her  small,  jeweled  hands.  "  Woe  betide  this  girl 
if  she  ever  crosses  my  path.  I  will  be  revenged  upon  Gor 
don  for  this— a  terrible  revenge — if  I  live  a  life-time  to  ac 
complish  it. " 

CHAPTEE  VIIL 

As  John  Carlisle  uttered  those  threatening  words,  "  You 
must  not  meet  my  son,"  he  strode  angrily  from  the  room 
by  one  door  while  Gordon  himself  entered  by  another. 

When  Gordon  Carlisle  had  left  Dora  he  had  encountered 
John  in  the  corridor,  and  called  him  to  account  in  severe 
terms  for  not  bringing  Leonie's  message  directly  to  him  in 
stead  of  obeying  Dora's  orders  to  turn  her  from  the  house. 

"  The  poor  girl  didn't  go  far,  Master  Gordon,"  replied 
John;  "  she  fell  down  the  steps  and  hurt  herself  powerful 
bad,  and  1  picked  her  up  and  took  her  to  the  house 
keeper's  room  until — " 

Gordon  did  not  wait  to  hear  the  rest  of  the  sentence,  but 
turned  like  a  flash  in  the  direction  of  the  housekeeper's 
room. 

His  heart  gave  a  strange,  tumultuous  throb  as  he  hurried 
breathlessly  toward  the  couch  upon  which  Leonie  lay,  and 
looked  down  upon  the  lovely  childish  face  and  the  timid 
brown  eyes  that  were  raised  to  his  with  such  a  frightened 
expression  in  their  velvetv  depths,  as  afae  whispered,  faintly 

11  Mr.  Carlisle,  I— 1^- 


44  LEONIS    LOCKS. 

A  twinge  of  pain  convulsed  the  pretty  face,  and  the 
sentence  was  lost  in  a  little  sobbing  cry. 

"You  must  not  attempt  to  talk  now,  child,"  inter 
rupted  Gordon,  drawing  up  a  cushioned  chair  close  by  thu 
bedside,  and  putting  one  firm  white  hand  over  her  trem 
bling  lips.  "  You  can  tell  me  what  you  wanted  to  see  me 
for  when  you  are  well  and  strong  enough.  You  have  fallen 
into  excellent  hands,  Leonie,"  he  went  on,  eagerly,  "  and 
tt  will  be  my  greatest  pleasure  to  see  that  you  have  every 
care  and  attention. " 

The  eloquent  brown  eyes  thanked  him  better  than  any 
•words  could  have  done,  and  at  that  moment  the  doctor  ar 
rived,  and  as  there  was  not  the  faintest  shadow  of  an  excuse 
to  linger  near  Leonie  one  moment  longer,  Gordon  reluc 
tantly  took  his  leave. 

"  I  shall  call  in  to  see  how  she  is  in  an  hour  from  now, 
Mrs.  Stuart/'  he  said  to  the  housekeeper;  "  and  I  hope  in 
the  meantime  you  will  see  that  she  has  every  possible  com 
fort  and  attention." 

"  Certainly,  sir/'  said  Mrs.  Stuart,  nodding;  "  I  will 
take  the  best  of  care  of  her,  you  may  depend  on  it." 

She  looked  after  him  with  a  quizzical  expression  in  her 
gray  eyes. 

"  How  interested  handsome  Master  Gordon  is  in  this 
pretty  young  thing/'  she  muttered,  reflectively,  smoothing- 
out  the  stocking  she  was  knitting  over  her  knee.  "  "Well, 
young  people  will  be  young  people,  and  if  they  see  a  face 
that  attracts  'em  they  are  head  over  heels  in  love  at  first 
sight." 

Her  meditations  were  suddenly  cut  short  by  the  entrance 
of  Dora  Lancaster — Mrs.  Stuart  knew  it  was  Dora  by  the 
strong  wave  of  "  crushed  violets  "  that  heralded  her  com 
ing — and  if  there  was  one  person  on  earth  Mrs.  Stuart  de 
spised  more  than  another  it  was  Dora  Lancaster,  so  she  did 
not  look  up  from  ber  knitting:,  and  Dora  flounced  into  the 
room  and  nr»  t.o  the  bed.  wilii  rhct  liHle  eneeripcr  Jan?h  of 


LEONIE 

here  that  always  made  the  housekeeper  shiver.  She  had 
just  heard  of  the  accident,  and  curiosity  and  jealousy  had 
worked  her  up  to  a  pitch  of  keen  excitement  as  she 
thought  of  Leonie  being  under  the  same  roof  with  her~ 
this  Leonie  of  whom  Gordon  had  spoken  so  warmly. 

"  You  will  have  your  hands  full  for  the  next  week  or  so, 
I  fancy,"  she  said,  scrutinizing  closely  the  pale  face 
among  the  pillows;  "  if  she  has  no  home  she  will  be  glad 
enough  to  stay  here  as  long  as  she  possibly  can." 

She  says  the  last  words  for  Leonie's  particular  benefit, 
for  she  knows  by  the  trembling  of  the  eyelashes  on  the 
pale  cheek  that  she  is  not  asleep. 

And  with  those  words  for  Leonie  to  reflect  upon  at  her 
leisure,  Dora  turns  and  quits  the  room,  asking  herself  over 
and  over  again  how  it  would  end.  Gordon  pitied  the  beau* 
tiful  girl  who  had  been  thrown  so  strangely  into  their 
household,  and  the  words  "  pity  is  akin  to  love  **  rang  in 
her  ears  like  a  voice  of  warning.  "  They  must  be  sepa* 
rated  before  he  sees  much  of  her,"  she  thought;  "  but 
how  can  it  be  done,  unless  she  is  removed  from  this  house 
at  once,  and  that  seems  to  be  impossible. " 

Fate  decided  the  momentous  question  for  her. 

On  the  morrow  numerous  letters  were  received  from 
friends  out  of  the  city  for  the  family  to  spend  Christmas 
with  them. 

"  We  shall  go,"  decided  Mr.  Carlisle,  briefly,  much  to 
Dora's  delight  and  Gordon's  intense  annoyance.  Mrs. 
Carlisle  usually  decided  as  her  husband  did,  and  accepted 
the  fact  as  settled. 

"  We  may  as  well  stay  until  after  New-year's,"  said 
Mr.  Carlisle,  grimly  adding  to  himself,  "  this  girl  shall  be 
got  out  of  the  house  in  the  interim,  and  then  I  shall  be  able 
to  breathe  freer." 

Among  the  many  invitations,  Mr.  Carlisle  decided  thai 
he  would  accept  that  of  the  Fords,  of  Philadelphia. 

4*  You  will  go  with  us.  Gordo**  of  Bourse,"  he  aaid,  ad' 


46  LBOKIE    LOCKS. 

dressing  his  son,  and  keenly  watching  the  expression  of  hit 
face  over  the  rim  of  his  gold  eyeglasses. 

*'  No/'  replied  Gordon,  quietly,  "  you  must  excuse  xne, 
father;  I  would  have  preferred  spending  Christmas  at 
home,  but  as  the  case  stands  I  think  1  shall  accept  an  invi 
tation  from  one  of  my  college  chums  to  go  up  to  Albany 
with  him/' 

"  Well,  suit  yourself,  by  all  means,"  returned  Mr. 
Carlisle. 

In  vain  Dora  coaxed  and  pleaded,  and  Mrs.  Carlisle  en* 
treated  Gordon  to  go  with  them  to  Philadelphia;  he  wa» 
inexorable. 

"  There  will  be  one  great  satisfaction,  and  that  is  to  know 
he  is  not  at  home,  where  this  girl  is/'  thought  Dora, 
triumphantly.  And  it  was  a  great  relief  to  her  when  sh^ 
saw  Gordon  take  his  departure;  and  that  same  afternoon 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carlisle  and  Dora  were  whirling  rapidly  to 
ward  Philadelphia. 

Alas!  how  useless  it  is  to  attempt  to  sever  hearts  that 
fate  has  determined  shall  be  attracted  toward  each  other. 

Gordon  Carlisle  had  scarcely  reached  the  depot  when  he 
changed  his  mind  completely,  and  obeying  the  impulses  of 
his  heart,  came  directly  home  again.  Mrs.  Stuart's  aston 
ishment  knew  no  bounds  when  she  saw  him  coming  up  the 
sidewalk. 

"  You  seem  surprised  to  see  me  back  again  so  soon,  Mrs. 
Stuart/'  he  said,  with  a  gay  laugh;  "  but  the  fact  is  I  con 
eluded  I  could  pass  a  much  more  enjoyable  Christmas  with 
you  and  your  charge.  It  is  well  enough  for  those  who 
have  no  home  to  spend  Christmas  with  their  friends/'  he 
added,  smilingly. 

And  that  one  incident,  dear  reader,  was  the  beginning  of 
the  most  pitiful  story  that  ever  was  portrayed. 

If  Gordon  Carlisle  had  not  changed  his  mind  so  .suddenly 
and  returned  home,  this  story  of  the  romance  of  beautiful 
Leonie  Locke  woujd^never  h&lfc  been  £iven  to  the  world. 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  47 

*.  That  was  a  Christmas  dinner  that  was  destined  never  te 
be  forgotten,  with  only  those  three  to  enjoy  it,  Gordon, 
Mrs.  Stuart,  and  Leonie. 

Leonie's  injuries  were  by  no  means  as  serious  as  was  at 
first  supposed;  the  soft,  clinging,  babyish-brown  curls  con 
cealed  the  little  bruise  on  her  forehead  which  her  fall  had 
given  her,  and  her  ankle,  which  had  only  been  dislocated, 
•was  doing  nicely. 

"  She  must  have  rest  for  a  couple  of  weeks,  then  she  will 
be  all  right,"  the  doctor  had  said. 

The  Christmas  dinner  was  served  in  Mrs.  Stuart's  sitting* 
room,  and  this  arrangement  just  suited  Gordon.  He  was 
used  to  seeing  young  girls  dressed  in  the  height  of  fashion, 
smiling  coquettishly  at  him  from  over  their  fruits  and  ices, 
but  this  pretty,  shy  Leonie,  in  her  plain  blue  merino  dress, 
so  timid  and  so  sweet,  charmed  him  as  no  young  girl  had 
ever  charmed  Gordon  Carlisle  before. 

Mrs.  Stuart  and  Gordon  did  all  the  talking,  and  when 
Leonie  shyly  raised  her  dark  eyes,  bright  as  stars,  timidly 
to  Gordon's  face  and  found  him  looking  at  her,  they 
would  instantly  veil  themselves  beneath  the  long  lashes  in 
a  way  that  was  sweetly  bewitching,  and  the  blushes  that 
would  dye  the  fair  young  face  in  her  embarrassment  and 
confusion  charmed  Gordon  more  than  ever. 

The  days  that  followed  flew  by  on  golden  wings,  and 
each  day  found  Gordon  by  Leonie's  side. 

The  housekeeper,  good  old  soul,  never  dreamed  of  the 
danger;  and  Leonie,  poor  innocent  child,  was  too  guileless 
to  check  the  great  delight  that  shone  in  her  face  when 
Gordon  was  present.  In  those  few  days  that  fate  had 
thrown  them  together,  Leonie  had  learned  the  sweet  be 
wildering  lesson  of  love  —  the  sweetest,  and  yet,  dear 
Heaven,  the  cruelest  lesson  some  hearts  ever  learn! 

It  was  all  very  natural,  still  it  was  all  very  wrong  that  all 
h«r  girlish  thoughts  should  cluster  around  him  as  they  did 

Gordon  Carlislej^s  thexml^iriend  she  had  in  the  whole 


48  LEONIE    LOCKS. 

wide  world,  save  poor  old  Mrs.  Stuart  the  housekeeper, 
and  no  wonder  she  clung  to  him  with  all  the  trustfulness 
tf  an  innocent  child.  His  fair  Saxon  face  and  the  light 
clustering  hair  that  crowned  his  noble  head,  the  tall, 
broad-shouldered,  manly  figure,  were  types  of  stalwart 
beauty  that  would  have  touched  the  heart  of  any  young 
girl  whose  feelings  were  not  dead  to  the  subtle  influence  vt 
love's  witchery. 

But  such  sweet  bewildering  dreams  can  not  last  forever, 
and  the  end  came  all  too  soon  in  the  shape  of  a  letter  from 
Dora  to  Mrs.  Stuart,  announcing  that  the  family  would 
arrive  home  some  time  the  following  day.  Mrs.  Stuart  put 
the  letter  in  her  pocket,  but  alas  for  the  fickle  memory  of 
old  age,  she  forgot  to  mention  the  fact  to  Gordon,  and  the 
storm  burst  all  unexpectedly  in  consequence  upon  him  at 
an  inopportune  moment. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

EVERY  hour  that  Gordon  Carlisle  passed  in  Mrs.  Stuart's 
pleasant  sitting-room — which  was  so  wonderfully  comfort" 
able,  cozy  and  home-like — seemed  to  draw  him  nearer  to 
Leonie. 

As  the  days  flitted  by  she  began  to  lose  something  of  her 
shy,  startled  manner  and  would  talk  to  him  in  her  timid 
way  that  amused  and  charmed  him  so. 

He  would  spend  hours  each  day  reading  to  her,  and  the 
deep  rich  music  of  his  voice  thrilled  her  to  the  very  soul. 

He  liked  to  watch  the  blushes  on  her  face,  and  the  glad 
light  that  lighted  up  those  pretty  dark  eyes  when  he  ap 
peared  suddenly  before  her.  Gordon  Carlisle  had  seen 
much  of  the  world,  aud  he  readily  guessed  the  secret  that 
Leonie  believed  no  human  being  could  ever  discover — that 
she  cared  for  him. 

At  first  he  had  only  thought  of  passing  a  pleasant  hour, 
bat  insensibly  his  own  heart  had  .become  interested;  and 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  .       4fr 

when  a  handsome  young  man  is  once  interested  in  a  lovely 
young  girl,  it  is  very  natural  that  interest  should  deepen 
into  love,  for  young  hearts  are  always  susceptible  to  its 
tender  influences  the  whole  world  over  when  they  meet  the 
right  one. 

A  hundred  times  the  words  were  on  his  lips,  and  as  fate 
or  luck  would  have  it,  Mrs.  Stuart  would  always  make  her 
Appearance  at  just  such  moments,  and  Gordon  would  be 
obliged  to  pick  up  his  book  again  and  attempt  to  tell  her 
the  story  that  trembled  on  his  lips  in  the  beautiful  language 
of  some  love  poem,  telling  the  rest  with  his  eloquent 
eyes;  but  at  last  he  gave  up  in  despair.  Leonie  could  not 
or  would  not  understand  him.  Mrs.  Stuart  always  had 
some  excuse  to  offer  for  never  leaving  them  alone  to 
gether;  and  the  very  romance  of  the  whole  proceeding  had 
a  double  charm  for  Gordon  Carlisle. 

One  day  he  found  Leonie  sitting,  with  her  hands  clasped, 
looking  dejectedly  out  of  the  window,  while  Mrs.  Stuart, 
like  the  veritable  thorn  that  guarded  the  rose,  sat  near  her, 
knitting  away,  with  a  face  fully  as  thoughtful  as  Leonie's. 
Gordon 's  gay  bantering  conversation,  or  the  book  which  he 
had  chosen,  failed  to  bring  back  the  lovely  color  to  her 
cheek,  or  hide  the  wistful  gaze  of  the  dark  eyes. 

Gordon  tossed  his  book  aside  in  despair. 

"  There  is  little  use  in  reading  if  you  are  not  listening, 
Leonie,"  he  said,  laughingly.  "  I  shall  save  this  delightful 
romance  for  another  time,"  he  added. 
£  "Indeed  I  was  listening,"  responded  Leonie,  in  a 
tremulous  voice,  "  and  perhaps  the  thought  that  my  life  is 
so  much  like  that  of  the  heroine  of  the  story  you  are  read 
ing  is  what  makes  me  look  so  sad. " 

"  In  what  way?"  asked  Gordon,  amusedly. 

"  Why,  I,  too,  must  soon  be  looking  for  work  again.  1 
can  remain  a  burden  upon  the  kindness  of  strangers  but  a 
day  or  so  longer,  and  the  doctor  says  it  will  be  safe  for  me 
to  go  out  of  the  house  day  after  to-morrow.  For  the* 


$0  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

last  week  I  have  been  trying  to  get  enough  courage  to  asfc 
you  if  you  would  please  take  me  back  in  your  employ 
again,  Mr.  Carlisle;  that  was  what  I  came  to  ask  you  that 
night.- 

She  was  asking  him  for  employment.  How  the  words 
grated  on  his  ears.  He  could  not  endure  the  thought. 

"  Never  mind  discussing  that  subject  now,  Leonie/'  he 
replied,  evasively.  "  You  can  talk  to  father  about  it  when 
be  comes  back.  It  will  be  all  right,  anyhow. " 

*'  Oh,  no!"  cried  Leonie,  in  sudden  fright;  "  your  father 
is  so  stern.  I  would  ever  so  much  rather  talk  with  you 
About  it  It  is  your  store,  isn't  it?" 

"  Well,  it  will  be  mine  if  father  does  not  change  Lis 
mind  about  signing  it  over  to  me  January  1st,  as  he  has 
promised  to  do,"  replied  Gordon,  smiling;  "  but  I  do  not 
care  to  mix  you  up  with  my  business  affairs,  Leonie;  I  ha?e 
quite  enough  of  it  at  the  office." 

A  strange  whiteness  crept  over  Leonie's  face  as  she  re 
membered  how  fiercely  Gordon's  father  had  spoken  to  her 
when  he  found  her  beneath  his  roof. 

"  If  I  have  to  talk  to  him  about  it,  I  shall  surely  faint/* 
thought  Leonie,  a  desperate  fear  chilling  her  heart. 

It  was  quite  a  different  thing  talking  with  this  handsome, 
fcindly  young  man,  and  making  the  same  request  of  his 
stern  father. 

Gordon  could  have  settled  it  for  her  then  and  there  in  a 
highly  satisfactory  way,  had  it  not  been  for  Mrs.  Stuart's 
presence. 

As  it  was,  he  bade  Leonie  "  Good-night,"  and  went  up 
fc>  his  room  with  a  light,  buoyant  step  and  a  smile  on  his 
lips,  as  he  thought  to  himself:  "  How  surprised  Leonie 
would  be  when  he  told  her  that  if  he  could  help  it  she 
should  never  seek  employment  again — that  he  loved  her 
And  wanted  her  to  stay  where  she  was  as  his  wife." 

Meanwhile,  Mrs.  Stuart  had  left  Leonie  to  her  own 
thoughts,  and  had  gone  back  to  her  work  in  the  kitchen. 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  5J 

Was  it  only  fancy,  or  did  she  hear  some  one  topping 
stealthily  against  the  window-pane? 

"It  couldn't  possibly  be  that  gracelesi  nephew  of  mine, 
Charlie  Hart,"  thought  Mrs.  Stuart,  nervously,  as  she 
opened  the  door.  "  Can  it  be  possible  he  has  the  effront 
ery  to  be  seen  around  here  after  Master  Gordon  has  turned 
him  off?  Why,  it  would  be  as  much  as  my  place  is  worth 
if  Master  Gordon  were  to  see  him  here  in  the  house!''  » 

The  housekeeper's  surmise  proved  quite  correct — it  was 
Charlie  Hart,  her  graceless  nephew. 

"  You  do  not  give  me  a  very  cordial  welcome,  Aunt 
Stuart,"  he  said,  coolly,  shaking  the  snow  from  his  coat, 
advancing  into  the  room,  and  inviting  himself  to  a  chair 
before  the  fire. 

Mrs.  Stuart  was  not  in  the  least  deceived  by  his  friendly 
greeting.  . 

"  What  in  the  world  brings  you  here  at  this  time  of 
night,  Charlie  Hart,"  she  inquired,  suspiciously,  "  when 
all  honest  folks  are  in  their  beds?  What  if  Master  Gordon 
were  to  see  you?" 

"If  all  honest  folks  are  in  their  beds,  that  don't  speak 
•rery  well  for  you,  Aunt  Stuart,"  he  remarked,  dryly. 
"  And  as  for  Gordon  Carlisle,  I  do  not  think  you  will  tell 
Mm  I  am  here;  and  what  he  don't  know  will  not  hurt 
him.  But  how  does  ifc  happen  that  the  fashionable,  fastid 
ious  Gordon  Carlisle  has  spent  the  holidays  here,  instead 
of  toasting  the  occasion  with  his  friends  abroad?  I  mean 
with  the  rest  of  the  family  at  Philadelphia." 

"  Who  told  you  so  much  of  the  affairs  that  are  going  on 
jn  this  house,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

"  Well,  to  be  frank  with  you,  1  saw  Mrs.  Carlisle  and 
her  husband  and  Miss  Lancaster  steaming  away  toward 
Philadelphia  some  two  or  three  weeks  ago,  and  I  also  saw 
Gordon  Carlisle  on  the  same  day  start  in  quite  an  opposite 
direction;  and  wha£_p£BBtad  w*  xvot  a  little  was  to  see  hin? 


62  LBONIE    LOCKE* 

suddenly  change  his  mind  and  order  the  coachman  to  tnm 
directly  home  again. " 

"  Well,  hadn't  he  a  right  to  change  his  mind  if  he 
wanted  to?"  said  Mrs.  Stuart,  testily. 

44  Ah,  but  there  was  a  good  reason  for  it.  There  was  a 
strong  attraction  at  home  for  him,"  suggested  Charlie 
Hart,  with  a  laugh  that  was  not  pleasant  to  hear.  "  An 
Attraction  in  the  shape  of  a  pretty  little  dark-eyed  beauty 
who  has  been  an  inmate  of  this  house  since  the  family  went 
away,  or  rather  since  the  night  before. " 

"  You  are  a  perfect  wizard!"  cried  Mrs.  Stuart,  in  as 
tonishment.  "  How  did  you  know  so  much  about  it?" 

"  I  was  passing  the  house  when  the  accident  occurred, 
and  I  know  the  doctor  who  attended  the  little  beauty; 
he  was  my  informant  that  she  would  not  be  able  to  leave 
the  house  for  a  couple  of  weeks  or  more.  There's  nothing 
very  remarkable  in  that,  is  there?" 

*'  She  may  never  leave  this  house  at  all,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Stuart,  with  a  confidential  little  nod.  "  If  I  can  read  signs 
and  tokens  right,  I  would  wager  a  new  pair  of  gloves 
against  a  silk  bonnet  that  she  will  be  mistress  of  this 
house  some  day.  Why,  Master  Gordon  is  just  head  over 
heels  in  love  with  her. " 

"  What  does  Dora  Lancaster  think  of  it?"  asked  Charlie 
Hart,  crushing  something  that  sounded  strangely  like  an 
oath  between  his  white  teeth,  his  dark  face  drawn  into  an 
angry  frown. 

"  Bless  you,  she  doesn't  know  it  yet;  but  when  she  does 
tind  it  out  there  will  be  terrible  goings-on  about  it,  for  she 
has  always  made  boasts  of  what  she  would  do  when  she 
married  Gordon  Carlisle. " 

"  She  is  a  dangerous  girl,  1  should  imagine.  Her  deep- 
rooted  love  for  Gordon  Carlisle  would  tempt  her  to  almost 
any  crime  rather  than  suffer  a  rival  to  win  him  from  hen 
Is  it  not  e-*9"  he  asked,  in  a  s'  range,  low  whisper. 

"  J  believe  she  i«  *£^***>-«nftngh  to  almost  commit  mar* 


,-^^ ..  „- ,  ••**—•«.--  — "5  •  - 

LEONIE    LOCKE.  08 

dcr,  if  she  could  win  Gordon  Carlisle  by  it,"  replied  Mrs. 
Stuart. 

And  she  little  dreamed  of  the  thrilling  plot  those  few 
words  suggested  to  the  man  who  sat  before  the  fire  with 
his  dark,  wicked  face  turned  partially  from  her  into  the 
shadow. 

"  I  had  almost  forgotten  my  errand  here,  Aunt  Stuart/' 
he  said,  hastily.  "  I  have  a  letter  here  for  Miss  Lancaster, 
and  you  must  manage  to  deliver  it  to  her  in  person.  No 
one  must  know  of  it!"  and  as  he  spoke  he  put  a  square 
white  envelope  in  her  hands. 

"  Why,  this  is  your  writing,  Charlie  Hart!"  she  cried, 
wonderingly.  "  Why,  she  would  throw  this  in  my  fa<je. 
I  wouldn't  dare  do  it." 

"  No  she  won't,"  he  answered,  with  a  strange,  peculiar 
smile.  "  She  will  not  only  read  it,  but  answer  it,  wid 
send  it  by  you. " 

"  What  have  you  to  write  to  proud,  haughty  Dora  Lan 
caster  about?"  she  asked,  with  growing  wonder. 

"  Perhaps  it  may  be  about  a  situation.  She  has  great 
influence  with  old  Mr.  Carlisle.  Rest  assured  she  will  an* 
swer  it,  and  I  will  come  for  it  to-morrow  night" 


CHAPTER  X. 

THERE  was  only  one  bitter  drop  of  sorrow  in  LeomVs 
cup  of  joy,  and  that  was  the  thought  that  she  must  leave 
that  luxurious  home  as  soon  as  she  was  sufficiently  re 
covered;  and  with  that  thought  came  a  still  more  bifcte* 
one — she  would  see  no  more  of  Gordon  Carlisle. 

Leonie  never  spoke  of  the  curt  letter  she  had  received; 
pride  kept  her  silent. 

"  I  shall  never  mention  it  to  him,"  she  thought;  "  he 
has  regretted  it,  I  am  sure,  and  it  is  useless  to  recall  un 
pleasant  subjects." 

What  should  she-^a  wh^n.  aha  .went^  away,  and  where 


54  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

should  she  go?  she  would  ask  herself;  and  she  always  ai> 
swered  'it  by  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands,  and  sobbing  as 
though  her  heart  would  break;  and  in  this  way  Gordon 
found  her  one  evening. 

It  was  not  in  human  nature  to  look  at  those  dark,  lovely, 
velvety  eyes  drowned  in  tears  without  doing  his  best  to 
comfort  her,  and  in  a  moment  Gordon  had  crossed  tht 
room  and  was  kneeling  beside  her. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Leonie?"  he  asked,  anxiously, 
drawing  the  little  trembling  hand  from  her  face  and  firm- 
ly  imprisoning  it  in  his  own. 

"  Nothing — I  do  not  know.  1  was  just  wishing  some 
thing/'  she  sighed. 

"  What  were  you  wishing?  Better  to  tell  me  than  to 
sigh  over  it  in  secret — what  is  it?" 

"  I  have  been  so  happy  here  with  you,  Mr.  Carlisle,  .in 
your  beautiful  home!  I  am  crying  because  I  must  go  away 
now,  and  1  do  not  know  where  to  go,  for  1  have  not  one 
friend  but  you  in  all  the  whole  world. " 

She  was  looking  with  wistful  eyes  up  into  his  face  with 
a  look  such  as  one  sees  in  the  eyes  of  an  innocent  child. 

'*  You  are  very  happy  here,  then,  Leonie?"  he  asked,  In 
a  low  voice,  while  his  face  flushed  slightly  and  one  arm 
stole  quite  unconsciously  around  the  slender  waist. 

"Yes/'  she  replied,  pathetically,  "1  have  been  very 
happy  here,  and  that  makes  my  future  seem  so  desolate 
that  1  dare  not  think  of  it." 

"Poor,  lonely,  desolate  child,"  he  sighed,  compassion 
ately,  "  you  need  never  leave  this  home  if  you  so  will  it 
for  I  love  you,  Leonie,  and  I  can  never  part  from  you!" 

The  next  moment  he  was  on  his  knees  by  her  side, 
pouring  forth  such  passionate  words,  so  freighted  with 
love,  that  they  fairly  took  her  breath  away. 

"  You — you  frighten  me,"  she  whispered.  "  Oh,  Mr. 
Carlisle,  I  could  n§£e£.  believ.e-fchat  YOU  who  are  so  fax 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  60 

aDove  me  could  love  me — me — only  a  poor,  simple  working, 
girl!"  she  cried,  tremblingly. 

"  Yet  more  precious  to  me  than  a  queen  on  her  throne,* 
he  added,  eagerly.  "  You  are  all  the  world  to  me?  Leonie. 
Try  to  love  me— try  to  care  for  me!  Give  me  only  one 
kind  look  from  those  beautiful  dark  eyes,  and  I  can  read 
my  answer  there/' 

He  took  the  beautiful  blushing  face  in  his  hands  and 
held  it  there  until  she  was  compelled  to  look  up  at  him; 
then  those  lovely  eyes  told  their  own  story  of  a  suddenly 
awakened  girlish  heart,  to  which  love  was  a  new,  sweet,  be 
wildering  dream. 

Gordon  Carlisle  laughed  a  low,  happy,  musical  laugh. 

"  You  can  never  recall  what  your  eyes  have  told  me. 
Leonie/'  he  whispered.  "  They  have  told  me  that  you  do 
love  me,  you  coy  little  darling!" 

"  I — I  never  thought  much  about  lovers,  and  1  did  not 
know  that  I  looked  at  you  in  that  way/'  she  faltered,  rosy 
red  with  confusion. 

"  But  now  that  you  do  think  a  little  about  them,  make 
me  happy  by  telling  me  that  you  do  not  find  it  quite  dis 
agreeable.  You  must  look  upon  me  aa  your  true  lover, 
Leonie — your  lover  who  would  not  think  life  without  you 
worth  living — your  lover  who  cares  more  for  pure  little 
Leonie  in  all  her  sweet,  girlish  simplicity  than  all  the 
world  besides.  Can  you  understand  me,  do  you  realize  it, 
dear?  Will  you  try?  Will  you  say  to  yourself.  *  Gordon 
Carlisle  is  my  lover?'  You  will  grow  accustomed  to  the 
idea  in  time,  and  then,  my  timid  Little  love,  you  will  grow 
accustomed  to  liking  me." 

Mrs.  Stuart  had  come  to  the  door- way,  but  neitner  Gor 
don  nor  Leonie  had  heard  her — like  all  lovers,  they  had 
forgotten  the  existence  of  every  one  save  themselves. 

"  God  bless  them/'  muttered  the  housekeeper,  **  I  knew 
if  he  saw  much  of  her  it  could  end  in  but  one  way — he 
would  love  her.  I  was  ai'raid  it  waa^Dora  Lancaster  that 


56  LEONIi     LOCKE. 

> 

he  liked.  It  is  just  as  the  Lord  intended  it — the  rich 
should  wed  with  the  poor.  That  will  be  a  romantic  ending  to 
the  accident  that  brought  pretty  Leonie  Locke  here  where 
Master  Gordon  was.  I  shall  always  believe  in  fate  after 
this." 

She  slipped  away  quite  noiselessly,  thinking  to  herself 
what  a  pretty  love-story  Leonie  would  have  to  tell  her 
when  Gordon  went  up  to  his  room  that  night. 

"  And  now,  Leonie,  if  you  are  to  care  for  me,  you  must 
seal  the  compact  with  a  lover's  kiss,"  said  Gordon,  eagerly, 
and  he  was  just  about  to  add,  "  for  I  want  you  for  my  little 
wife;"  but  the  sentence  never  was  spoken.  A  low,  taunting 
tough,  that  had  the  bitterness  of  death  in  it,  rang  through 
the  room,  freezing  the  glowing  words  on  his  lips,  and 
glancing  up  he  saw  Dora  Lancaster  aiid  his  father  and 
mother  standing  in  the  door-way,  and  the  intense  anger  on 
their  faces  was  more  terrible  thau  words.  Gordon  sprung 
to  his  feet,  proudly  erect,  with  kis  handsome  head  thrown 
back,  an  angry  light  in  his  fearless  blue  eyes,  and  his 
strong  arm  clasping  tenderly  the  little  figure  clinging  to 
him  in  such  abject  fright  and  trembling  so  violently. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  interrupt  such  a  pretty  love-scene/'  said 
Mr.  Carlisle,  entering  the  room,  and  walking  up  to  his  soa 
with  measured  strides  and  white,  wrathful  face,  "but  I 
was  under  the  impression  you  were  still  at  Albany.  How 
is  it,  sir,  that  1  find  you  at  home,  may  I  ask?" 

"  I  did  not  go  away,  father,"  returned  Gordon,  calmly. 
;t  I  changed  my  mind  and  returned  home  again." 

''What  did  you  do  that  for?"  thundered  Mr.  Carlisle, 
m  rising  fury.  "  Did  you  take  an  unfair  advantage  of 
your  mother  and  me  by  coming  back  here  to  see  that 
girl?"  he  cried,  casting  a  scathing,  withering  glance -upon 
Leonift. 

"  1  must  confess  that  I  did  return  for  that  purpose  and 
no  otherv"  responded  Gordon,  flushing  Jiotly,  "  but  1  den? 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  5< 

the  accusation  of  taking  unfair  advantage.     I  do  not  lool 
upon  it  in  that  light " 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say/'  sneered  Mr.  Carlisle.  "  Step  into  th< 
library  and  we  will  discuss  this  matter  more  fully  there, ' 
he  said,  sternly. 

"  Oh,  do  not  go,  Gordon;  do  not  leave  me,"  sobbec 
Lieonie  in  terror,  hiding  her  face  on  his  shoulder;  "  I  shall 
die  if  you  do." 

The  strong  arm  clasped  her  still  closer. 

"  I  will  soon  settle  this  matter,  my  darling/'  he  an 
swered,  reassuringly,  unclasping  the  clinging  trembling 
white  arms.  "  You  need  fear  nothing,  Leonie." 

Mrs.  Carlisle  still  stood  in  the  door-way,  sobbing  audibly 
behind  her  lace  handkerchief.  Dora  had  vanished. 

"  Mother,"  said  Gordon,  crossing  over  to  where  she 
stood,  "  I  shall  leave  Leonie  here  with  you,  while  I  go  to 
the  library  with  father  and  settle  this  affair.  Be  kind  to 
her  for  your  son's  sake,  mother,"  he  whispered,  eagerly, 
"  for  I  intend  to  make  Leonie  Locke  my  wife.  "Wait  for 
me  here,  Leonie,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  have  something  very 
important  to  say  to  you  when  father  is  done  with  me." 

He  did  not  stoop  down-  to  kiss  Leonie,  strong  as  the  im 
pulse  was  upon  him  to  do  so,  but  turned  and  walked 
haughtily  from  the  room  and  into  the  library,  where  his 
father  impatiently  awaited  him. 

Mr.  Carlisle  sits  back  in  his  cushioned  chair,  and  there 
is  a  look  on  his  face  that  Gordon  has  never  seen  there  be 
fore,  and  his  face  is  deathly  white  and  his  eyes  have  a 
glassy  stare. 

The  calm  eyes  of  the  son  look  steadily  down  into  the  eyes 
of  his  father,  and  he  reads  a  gathering  storm  in  them. 

"  You  wanted  to  see  me,  father,"  he  said,  "  and  I  am 
here." 

"  How  long  has  this  thing  been  going  on?"  interrupted 
Mr.  Carlisle,  harshly*,  fixing  his  keen  gaze  steadily  on  hia 


5$  LP0?*'J&    -60CKE. 

(Bon's  face.    '"  flow  long  have  you  been  making  love  to  this 
working-girl,  /^onie  Locke?" 

Gordon  Carlisle's  face  flushed  a  deep  red. 

"  I  mupt  decline  to  answer  that  question,  father,  and  1 
beg,  for  zny  sake,  you  will  speak  more  respectfully  of 
Leonie,  and  think  more  kindly  of  her,  for  I  love  her, 
father,  and  I  intend  to  make  her — my  wife/'  he  answers. 

The  last  two  words  he  had  uttered  exploded  a  volcano  of 
wrath  which  his  father  had  been  vainly  trying  to  control. 

44  Your  wife!"  he  gasped— "  this  girl  whose  very  face 
taunts  me  to  madness — this  girl  whom  I  abhor  from  the 
bottom  of  my  heart  1"  he  cried,  hoarsely.  "  I  had  rather 
see  you  lying  dead  at  my  feet  than  married  to  Leonie 
Locke.  1  know  ^iiy — 1  know  why.  You  must  choose  be 
tween  us.  I  will  never  give  my  consent  for  you  to  marry 
her  while  I  live.  Never,  sir,  never!" 

"  Do  not  be  so  hard  upon  me,  father,"  pleaded  the 
young  man.  *4  Remember  you  were  young  once  yourself, 
jmd  loved  my  mother  as  I  love  Leonie.  I — " 

"  Stop!  stop  right  where  you  are,"  cried  Mr.  Carlisle. 
"  I  will  not  hear  it.  This  is  but  a  mad  infatuation  you 
Jiave  for  this  girl,  who  has  come  to  this  house  with  the 
full  purpose  of  entrapping  you  into  a  marriage  with  her, 
and  you  fall  as  easily  into  the  net  as  a  rabbit  into  a  trap." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  father,  indeed  you  are,"  cried  Gor 
don.  "  Little  Leonie  Locke  is  as  free  from  all  design  in 
that  way  as  an  angel  from  heaven,  and  she  is  as  guileless 
as  a  little  child.  Eemember  when  you  speak  slightingly  of 
her  it  is  an  insult  to  me,  your  son." 

"  You  must  choose  between  us,  Gordon,"  cried  Mr. 
Carlisle,  fiercely,  "between  your  father  and  his  wealth 
and  this  working-girl.  You  are  deciding  your  own  fate. 
1!  von  choose  this  girl,  you  shall  never  have  a  dollar  of  my 
money;  I  will  make  a  bonfire  of  it  first.  In  every  way  in 
which  1  can  forget  you,  I  shall  do  it.  In  every  way  in 
which  I  can  blot  your  memorv  out.  ij^hall  be  blotted  out." 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  89 

"  Father, "  cried  the  unhappy  young  man,  with  tears  in 
his  eyes,  "ask  anything  but  that  I  can  not  giye  up 
Leonie  Locke,  not  even  for  your  sake.  Your  wealth  is  as 
nothing  when  weighed  against  Leonie's  love,  I  can  not 
and  will  not  give  her  up!" 


CHAPTER  XL 

THERE  was  terrible  anger  upon  John  Carlisle's  face  as 
he  turned  suddenly  and  met  the  proud,  unflinching  gaze  of 
his  son. 

"  Have  I  heard  aright?"  he  demanded,  hoarsely;  "'to 
you  dare  defy  me  by  declaring  to  my  very  face  you  will  not 
give  up  this  girl?" 

"  1  have  not  attempted  to  defy  you,  father,"  replied 
Gordon,  slowly;  "  do  not  put  it  in  that  way.  I  said  that  1 
could  not  give  Leonie  up,  and  I  say  so  still.  Love  such  a» 
I  feel  for  her  comes  to  a  man  but  once  in  a  life-time \  it 
either  makes  or  mars  his  life." 

"  Have  done  with  such  nonsense!"  cried  the  old  million 
aire,  hotly.  "  After  you  have  seen  as  much  of  the  world 
as  I  have,  all  such  notions  will  evaporate.  You  are  in 
fatuated  with  the  girl's  pretty  face;  six  months  from  now 
you  will  wonder  how  you  could  have  made  such  a  fool  of 
yourself.  Be  reasonable,  Gordon;  do  not  let  this  working- 
girl  come  between  you  and  me,  for  if  you  do  not  give  her 
up  I  will  never  look  upon  your  face  again — so  help  me 
Heaven!  You  have  been  a  rash,  wayward  boy,  Gordon, 
but  you  have  always  heeded  your  father's  words — they  have 
been  your  law.  I  have  done  pleading  with  you,"  he  added, 
harshly;  *'  and  now  I  demand  you  to  have  done  with  this 
romantic  love-nonsense.  You  must  give  up  Leonie  Locke. 
What  do  you  say?" 

"  I  can  only  say  what  1  have  said  from  the  first,  father. 
I  can  not  give  Leonie  up;  God  knows  it  would  wreck  my 
whole  life  if  I  should  Ir^a  herl-^It-Js  not  a  romantic 


oO  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

fancy,  father,  but  the  deep  love  of  a  life-time.  A«tr  any. 
thing  else  of  me,  and  I  wfll  gladly  do  it!" 

How  handsome  and  noble  Gordon  Carlisle  looked  as  h* 
stood  there  defending  his  love  so  manfully! 

His  face  was  pale  as  death,  but  there  was  a  determined 
look  in  his  flashing  blue  eyes  that  showed  a  fixed  resolve. 

A  sudden  thought  came  to  Mr.  Carlisle.  On  the  table 
before  him  lay  several  popular  magazines  of  the  day.  .  He 
carefully  selected  one,  and  laid  it  open  before  his  son, 
pointing  to  the  caption  that  headed  one  of  the  articles,  and 
Gordon  read  the  startling  words:  "  He  cursed  him  by 
giving  him  his  heart's  desire!" 

"  Let  those  words  teach  you  a  lesson,  Gordon.  If  I  were 
to  give  my  consent  to  a  marriage  with  this  girl,  you  would 
bitterly  censure  me  for  it  in  after  years.  You  are  not  the 
first  young  man  who  has  rashly  followed  a  pretty  face  and 
lived  to  rue  it  all  his  life. " 

"  I  am  willing  to  stand  all  the  consequences,"  returned 
Gordon,  hotly.  "  Do  not  try  to  persuade  me,  father;  it  ia 
quite  useless.  1  will  respect  your  wishes  in  every  othajf 
case  but  this,  and  try  to  follow  them.  Every  man  should 
rule  his  own  love  affairs;  you  have  no  right  to  interfere  fo 
such  matters." 

"  I  have  the  right  of  a  father  over  a  son.  I  shall  sav» 
you  from  yourself,  Gordon,  no  matter  what  the  cost  may 
be.  Do  you  think  this  Leonie  Locke  would  smile  upon 
yon  if  you  were  a  beggar  instead  of  a  millionaire's  son?" 
he  added,  harshly. 

'*  I  believe  Leonie  loves  me  for  myself,  father,"  returned 
Gordon,  haughtily.  "  The  pure  love  of  such  a  girlish 
heart  is  not  measured  by  gold.  You  can  disinherit  me,  if 
you  see  fit,  father;  but  Leonie  and  I  will  still  be  happy.  1 
can  work  for  her,  if  necessary,  and  toil  will  be  sweet  for 
her  sake." 

Was  it  only  fancy,  or  was  it  the  skirts  of  a  woman's 
dress  rustling  against  . 


LEOK1E    LOCKE.  6 

^M£ 

He  remembered  closing  the  door  tightly;  now  it  was 
open  an  inch  or  so.  *~^~ 

"  You  are  headstrong,  and  you  shall  suffer  for  it;  you 
hare  made  your  choice,  and  you  must  abide  by  it.  You 
shall  have  all  the  *  sweet  toil '  you  want,  for  the  sake' of 
your  romantic,  foolish  love,  and  the  sweetnesss  will  tun 
to  wormwood  on  your  lips.  Go  to  Leonie  Locke,  and  tel 
her  you  have  nothing  but  poverty  to  give  her,  and  you  wil 
take  your  first  lesson  in  the  fickleness  of  woman's  Jove. 
You  have  been  reared  amidst  wealth  and  luxury,  and  if 
you  are  willing  to  turn  your  back  on  it  all  for  a  designing 
working-girl,  go,  I  say,  but  never  expect  one  dollar  from 
me.  I  shall  not  make  over  the  store  to  you  now.  1 
may  as  well  tell  you  now,  you  need  not  return  to  it;  I  can 
get  clerks  to  take  your  place. " 

"It  was  unnecessary  to  add  that  taunt/'  replied  Gor 
don,  flushing.  * '  1  had  no  intention  of  returning  to  it,  nor 
flhaL.  I  ask  shelter  of  you  for  a  single  nigbt;  I  shall  leave 
this  house  within  an  hour,  and  take  Leonie  with  me  to  the 
parsonage  across  the  way,  where  she  shall  be  made  my 
wife.  But  there  is  one  thing  that  grieves  me,  father:  1  do 
not  like  to  part  from  you  like  this.  Say  one  kind  word  of 
farewell  to  me  to  lighten  my  heart. " 

He  took  his  hat  He  was  very  pale,  and  his  eyes  had  a 
pleading  look.  He  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Come,  father,"  he  said,  "  we  can  not  part  like  this. 
1  can  not  put  into  words  how  badly  1  feel — " 

He  broke  off  and  drew  nearer;  but  Mr.  Carlisle  waved 
kirn  back. 

"  Any  other  parting  would  be  a  farce.  You  have  choseb 
Jjeonie  Locke  in  preference  to  your  mother  and  me  uuu 
your  luxurious  home,  and  I  shall  teach  you  a  lesson  that 
will  serve  you  a  life-time.  The  sooner  you  end  this  scene 
the  better  pleased  I  shall  be." 

"  Then,  good-bye,  father,  since  it  must  be  so!"  sighed 
Gordon. 


tf$  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

He  turned,  opened  the  door,  lingered  yet  one  moment, 
fn  hope  of  some  sign  of  relenting. 

Mr.  Carlisle  turned  his  back  upon  the  handsome,  manly 
form  in  the  door-way — turned  with  a  bitterly  angry  face  to 
the  books  and  papers  scattered  about  the  table. 
1  **  Fat'her,"  cried  Gordon,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  "  say 
just  one  kind  word;  touch  my  hand  at  parting!  Remem 
ber  yon.  are  sending  your  only  son  out  of  your  life,  for- 
erer!" 

"  Go!"  thundered  the  irate  millionaire.  "  Go  to  Leonie 
Locke  and  poverty!  You  have  made  your  own  choice; 
don't  whine  for  mercy  now!" 

"Without  another  word,  Gordon  Carlisle  turned  and 
walked  slowly  out  of  his  father's  presence,  and  the  sound 
of  the  firm,  retreating  footsteps  fell  like  a  knell  upon  John 
Carlisle's  stony  heart. 

"  Poverty  will  not  kill.  1  am  young  and  strong,  and  I 
shall  still  have  Leonie's  love.  Could  a  king  on  his  throne 
ask  more?"  he  thought,  as  he  walked  rapidly  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  room  in  which  he  had  left  his  mother  and 
JJeonie. 

A  door  opens  as  he  passes  it,  and  Dora  Lancaster's  face, 
red  and  tear-stained,  peeps  out 

"  Oh,  Gordon,  is  it  you  at  last?"  she  cries,  panting- 
ly,  catching  up  to  him,  and  clinging  to  his  arm.  '*  I 
heard  such  terrible  loud  voices  in  the  library,  1  knew  that 
my  guardian  must  be  fearfully  angry  with  you,  Gordon 
What  did  he  say?  Let  me  be  a  friend  to  you,  Gordon/' 
cried  the  deceitful  Dora,  *'  and  perhaps  I  can  help  you/' 

"  He  has  only  turned  me  away  from  the  house,"  re 
turned  Gordon,  trying  to  speak  lightly.  * i  But  1  can  stand 
it,  Dora;  perhaps  it  naay  make  a  man  of  me.  I  am  not 
discouraged  at  the  outlook." 

"  Was  it  on  account  of  that  girl,  Leonie  Locke?"  asked 
Dora,  in  a  low,  sobbing  voice. 

"  Father  forced  me  to  choose  between  wealth  and  love, 


LEONIE     LOCKE.  48 

and  I  chose  love/'  he  responded,  slowly;  "  and  I  am  sure 
I  shall  never  regret  it  Be  kind  to  Leonie,  Dora,  and  1 
shall  give  you  my  deepest  gratitude.  You  have  been  iike 
a  sifter  to  me  all  my  life;  do  not  fail  me  now.  Try  and 
win  father  and  mother  over  to  love  Leonie  for  my  sake; 
will  you,  Dora?" 

"  I  would  promise  almost  anything  for  your  sake,  Gor 
don.  I  can  only  say  that  I  can  try,"  she  answered. 

"  Heaven  bless  you,  Dora!"  ne  cried,  fervently.  "  You 
ATQ  a  true  friend  to  me,  after  all." 

On  the  spur  of  the  moment  he  clasped  Dora  in  his 
Arms  and  kissed  her  in  a  grateful,  brotherly  fashion — not 
the  burning  kisses  of  passionate  love,  but  the  calm,  mean 
ingless  kisses  of  gratitude.  But  those  fatal  kisses  only  fed 
the  flame  of  Dora's  mad,  reckless  love  for  him. 

"  Do  not  go  yet,  Gordon,"  she  sobbed,  clinging  to  him 
m  childish  abandon  ;  "  I  could  not  bear  it  Stay  until  I 
am  able  to  bear  it.  The  blow  has  been  so  sudden,  so 
sharp,  it  has  broken  my  heart!" 

She  turned  away  from  him,  sinking  down  upon  a  sofa 
tiear  at  hand,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands. 

^  Are  you  so  sorry  as  this,  Dora?"  he  asked,  trying  to 
cake  her  hands  away.  4<  I  did  not  think,  I  did  not 
know— " 

Then  he  stopped  short,  not  knowing  what  else  to  say  to 
her. 

There  is  only  one  sort  of  consolation  in  a  scene  like  this 
that  Gordon  knew  of,  namely,  to  sit  down  beside  her  and 
•lo  his  best  to  comfort  her;  and  that  is  exactly  what  he  did. 

"  Don't,  Dora!"  he  said;  '*  what  if  auy  one  came — what 
wou.d  they  think?" 

fie  took  out  his  handkerchief,  and  attemjjj,edfr)  wipe 
ft\vuy  the  tears  from  the  red,  swollen  cheeks,  impatiently         -* 
wishing  each  moment  that  she  would  let  him  break  away    t7J>  \ 
from  her  o.nd  returii  to  Leonie.  .  •••airi  fc'^   , 


64  L1ONIE    LOCKE. 

"Good-bye,  Dora/'  he  said,  unclasping  the  cfingrag 
viands.  *'  You  at  least  will  miss  me!"" 

And  little  dreaming  of  the  grievous  disappointment 
which  nearly  unmanned  him,  Gordon  Carlisle  hurried  to 
ward  the  room  where  he  had  left  his  mother  and  Leonid. 


CHAPTER  Xtt 

WHEN  Gordon  Carlisle  had  quitted  the  room  to  follow 
his  father  to  the  library,  Dora  Lancaster  had  entered  it  by 
another  door,  and  had  beckoned  Mrs.  Carlisle  out  into  the 
corridor. 

There  was  a  hurried  consultation  between  the  two  in 
breathless  whispers;  then,  with  a  strange  look  of  determi 
nation  on  her  face,  Mrs.  Carlisle  re-entered  the  room, 
where  Leonie  stood  before  the  fire,  pale,  trembling,  and 
terrified. 

Mrs.  Carlisle  could  well  understand  why  her  handsome 
son,  who  might  have  chosen  from  among  the  highest  and 
best-bred  in  the  land,  should  have  chosen  this  simple  little 
working-girl  when  she  looked  at  the  wondrous  beauty  of 
the  peerless  face  that  was  turned  timidly  toward  her  as  she 
approached  her. 

Mrs.  Carlisle  had  always  lived  in  the  world  of  fashion, 
and  to  her  work  was  little  less  than  a  sin,  and  poverty  the 
keenest  disgrace. 

Those  who  toiled  for  their  daily  bread  were  completely 
out  of  her  world  —  she  had  no  sympathy  with  them. 

"  Sit  down,  Leonie,"  she  said.  '*  1  want  to  have  a  talk 
with  you.  I  am  exceedingly  glad  to  have  this  opportunity, 
for  1  have  much  to  say  to  you.  " 

Silently  Leonie  obeyed. 

Although  Mrs.  Carlisle  had  tried  to  make  her  voioe 
sound  as  sweetly  as  possible,  there  was  a  subtle  harshness 
inTii  that  frightened  Leonie. 

I  must  lose  no,  time  ui  coming  to  the  point  at  once,  if 


" 


LEON  IE    LOCKE.  65 

1  am  to  succeed  in  carrying  out  Dora's  clever  scheme  before 
Gordon  returns/'  she  thought,  hurriedly.  "You  must 
give  me  your  full  attention,  Leonie,"  she  said,  "  and  an 
swer  my  questions  without  reserve.  The  first  thing  J 
want  to  know  is,  where  did  you  first  meet  my  son,  and 
how  long  have  you  known  him?" 

In  a  few  hesitating  sentences  Leonie  explained  the  whole 
matter,  all  that  the  reader  is  already  familiar  with,  adding, 
in  conclusion,  "  that  she  had  come  there  that  night  she 
had  met  with  the  accident  for  the  sole  purpose  of  pleading 
with  young  Mr.  Carlisle  to  give  her  work." 

Mrs.  Carlisle  shuddered  as  the  last  words  fell  from  the 
girl's  quivering  lips;  but  she  recovered  her  composure,  and 
asked,  slowly: 

"Do  you  know  what  construction  the  world  would  put 
upon  your  actions,  my  good  girl?" 

There  was  no  answer. 

The  fear  and  wonderment  seemed  to  deepen  in  the  dark, 
velvety  eyes  regarding  her  so  shyly. 

"  I  will  tell  you,  then,  the  story  that  is  whispered  about. 
They  say  that  you  came  here  that  night  for  the  sole  pur 
pose  of  forcing  your  way  into  this  household  by  a  pre* 
tended  fall,  which  was  the  excuse  you  had  planned  to  ac 
complish  it,  for  it  is  a  well-known  fact  that  business  people 
do  not,  and  would  not,  transact  business  at  their  private 
residences.  The  very  excuse  was  quite  absurd;  you  knew 
where  his  office  was. " 

"  I  did  not  thiiik  of  that,  madame,"  said  Leonie,  flush 
ing  a  burning  crimson;  "when  1  fell  down  the  marble 
steps,  I  fainted  outright.  I  did  not  know  I  would  be 
brought  into  your  house.  The  terrible  pain  I  was  suffer 
ing  shut  out  everything  else  from  ray  mind.  I  had  not 
thought  about  business  hours  at  his  office.  I  was  cold  and 
homeless,  and  the  only  thought  that  occurred  to  me  was  J 
Qiust  find  work  or  starve,  and  I  made  up  my  Hiinci  to  see 
young  Mr.  Carlisle^boot  i 

& 


66  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

"  Then  you  say  you  did  not  come  here  to  entrap  my  son. 
because  you  knew  he  was  young,  wealthy,  and  easily  influ- 
enced  by  a  pretty  face?  Then  how  can  you  account  for  the 
scene  which  we  just  witnessed  upon  our  unexpected  ar 
rival?" 

Leonie  had  arisen  and  stood  before  her;  her  face  was 
pale  as  a  snow-drop,  and  great  pearly  tears  forced  them 
selves  from  the  white  lids  upon  the  long,  dark,  curling 
lashes. 

' k  I  never  would  have  been  guilty  of  anything  wrong, 
Mrs.  Carlisle,"  replied  Leonie,  with  a  brave  effort  to  keep 
back  the  great  choking  sobs  and  scalding  tears.  "  I  never 
even  dreamed  that — that  Gordon  loved  me,  until  he  said 
so  to-night. " 

A  harsh  laugh  broke  from  Mrs.  Carlisle's  lips. 

The  words,  "  Gordon  loves  me,"  had  taunted  her  ta 
something  very  like  desperation  and  fury. 

"  Loves  you!"  she  repeated,  harshly;  "  and  were  you 
indeed  so  devoid  of  reason  that  you  believed  such  a  thing 
could  be  possible?" 

"  Gordon  told  me  so,  and  I  believed  him,"  replied 
Leonie,  piteously.  "He  is  so  good  and  noble  he  would 
say  nothing  that  was  false. " 

"  I  say  that  it  certainly  is  false,  then.  Gordon  Carlisle 
does  not  love  you.  There  is  nothing  in  common  between 
my  son  and  a  working-girl.  Some  men  have  a  weakness 
to  make  love  to  a  pretty  girl,  and  they  can  not  resist  it.  J 
am  sorry  to  say  that  is  Gordon's  fault.  You  say  that  he 
told  you  he  loved  you;  but  tell  me  this,"  she  added,  breath 
lessly,  "  did  he  ask  you  to  become  his  wife?" 

All  the  beautiful  color  seemed  to  drift  from  Leonie's 
face  as  her  lips  truthfully  framed  the  words: 

"  No;  he  did  not  speak  of  marriage." 

She  had  not  thought  of  it  before;  but  now  that  the 
question  was  put  to  her  direct,  it  quite  startled  her. 

How  was  she  to  know  that -tto- entrance  of  his  relatives 


LEONIE    LOCKE. 

..  -.i§ 

bad  frozen  those  very  words,  "  Will  you  be  my  wife, 
Leonie?"  on  Gordon  Carlisle's  lips. 

Only  those  six  little  words  had  been  omitted  at  that 
critical  moment,  and  what  a  world  of  misery  was  to  ensue 
because  they  had  not  been  spoken! 

"I  knew  it!"  declared  Mrs.  Carlisle,  triumphamtly. 
"  You  say  he  told  you  he  loved  you,  yet  you  admit  that 
He  said  nothing  of  marriage.  Now,  if  you  are  as  sensible^ 
a  young  girl  as  1  take  you  to  be,  you  will  ky.ow  that  when. 
a  young  man  has  a  deep,  true  love  for  a  lady,  and  tells  her 
of  it,  he  says  something  about  marriage;  does  he  not?" 

"  I  think  he  should,"  said  Leonie,  tremulously. 

The  terrible  truth  was  forcing  its  way  into  her  heart 
through  the  persuasive  arguments  of  Gordon's  worldly 
mother, 

"  IE  Ji  not  clear  to  you?"  argued  Mrs.  Carlisle.  "  My  SOIL 
would  not  woo  you  openly  before  the  family,  but  when  he 
knew  we  were  away,  he  returned  stealthily  to  his  home 
again,  and  passed  three  weeks  here  with  you.  And  now 
the  question  arises,  which  of  you  is  at  fault?  Was  Gordon 
merely  flirting  with  you,  or  were  you  attempting  to  inveigle 
my  son  into  an  alliance  with  you  because  you  believed  him 
the  son  of  wealthy  parents?" 

Mrs.  Carlisle  never  forgot  the  look  of  the  intense,  dark, 
velvety  eyes  turned  so  proudly  upon  her,  or  the  great 
waves  of  crimson  that  dyed  both  cheek  and  brow  of  ilia* 
lovely  young  face. 

"  I  would  give  my  love  to  no  man  unsought,"  she  an^ 
awered,  simply.     "  You  do  me  great  injustice,  madam? 
I  forgive  you  for  your  cruel  suspicions,  though,  because 
you  are  Gordon's  mother." 

*  Then  prove  your  disinterestedness  by  leaving  the  house 
at  once  without  seeing  Gordon  again!"  cried  Mrs.  Carlisle, 
earnestly.  "  I  may  as  well  tell  you  the  plain  truth — my 
eon  loves  Dora  Lancaster,  and  he  is  engaged  to  be  married 
to  her;  he  was  onlv  triflinjr  with  you,  because  you  are— 


OB  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

well,  only  a  working-girl  1  can  prove  this  by  Dora  he*, 
self.  I  can  not  see  you  rushing  on  in  a  path  that  can 
mean  only  ruin  to  an  innocent  girl,  such  as  you  appear  to 
be,  without  trying  to  save  you,  if  you  will  but  heed  my 
words.  You  shall  not  lack  money.  All  that  1  ask  is  for 
you  to  leave  the  house  and  the  city  at  once,  and  keep  out 
«f  Gordon's  way.  I  appeal  to  you  to  save  yourself." 

"  Let  me  see  Gordon  again — just  once,  and  I  will  do  as 
you  say.  1  will  go  away  from  him  forever — and  it  seems 
easier  to  die  than  to  do  that.  Oh,  I  have  learned  to  love 
Gordon  so;  I  was  miserable  enough  before,  but  I  am  a 
thousand-fold  more  so  now,  and  I  can  not  think  why  God 
•ver  let  us  meet  only  to  part/' 

*'  No,  you  must  not  see  Gordon  again;  that  looks  as  if 
you  were  desirous  of  making  an  appointment  with  him 
elsewhere.  If  you  are  innocent  of  conspiring  to  entrap 
him,  you  can  prove  it  in  no  other  way  than  by  leaving  the 
house  at  once. " 

"  Let  me  see  Gordon  only  once  more,"  pleaded  Leonie, 
**  just  for  one  little  minute — my  life  is  so  cold,  so  dark 
and  dreary,  and  it  is  for  the  last  time. " 

"Why  should  you  wish  to  see  another  young  lady's 
affianced  husband?"  demanded  Mrs.  Carlisle,  with  cutting 
sarcasm.  "You  astonish  me.  A  young  girl  of  spirit 
'Would  not  have  made  such  a  request. " 

"  Then  can  1  see  the  young  girl  he  is  engaged  to?" 
asked  Leonie,  with  a  pitiful  choking  sob. 

Mrs.  Carlisle  arose,  with  a  stiff  nod  leading  the  way,  and 
Leonie  followed  her  out  into  the  corridor;  but  she  did  not 
liave  need  to  take  a  single  step  forward  to  see  Dora  Lan 
caster,  for  there  she  was  at  the  other  end  of  the  corridor, 
aeated  side  by  side  on  a  divan  with  Gordon  Carlisle,  his 
arms  were  about  her,  and  his  kisses  were  raining  down 
apon  her  face. 

""  1  will  go  away  now,  Mrs.  Carlisle,"  panted  Leonie,  in 
•  low,  stifled,  piteous  Yoice.  "T  Bee^jtall  now.  It  was 


"*LEOSIR    LOCKE.  6fr 

Duly  a  few  fleeting  pleasant  hours  he  was  spending  with 
me— s  poor,  lonely,  homeless  working-girl;  and  it  is  she 
in  the  costly  trailing  silks  yonder  whom  he  would  make 
his  wife.  I  gave  him  my  whole  heart,  and  now  it  lies 
broken  beneath  his  feet.  I  am  going,  but  I  shall  not 
touch  one  penny  of  your  money.  Your  son  shall  never 
look  upon  my  face  again ;"  and  the  next  moment  she  was 
gone,  and,  with  a  little  exultant  laugh  Mrs.  Carlisle  re 
turned  to  the  room  again,  wondering  how  Gordon  would 
take  Leonie's  sudden  flight.  At  that  moment  he  came 
rapidly  down  the  corridor  and  into  the  room. 


CHAPTEK  XIIL 

NOTWITHSTANDING  the  terrible  ordeal  with  his  father 
through  which  Gordon  Carlisle  had  so  lately  passed,  his 
step  in  the  corridor  was  buoyant,  and  there  was  a  smile  on 
his  lips  as  he  opened  the  door,  which  changed  to  a  look  of 
blank  surprise  upon  not  seeing  Leonie. 

"  Come  in,  Gordon,  my  son,"  said  Mrs.  Carlisle,  "and 
tell  me  what  happened  in  the  library.  I  think  I  can  guess 
what  it  was. "  * 

"  Bring  Leonie  in  and  I  will  tell  you  both  together/'  he- 
replied,  flinging  himself  down  upon  a  sofa  opposite  her 
and  leaning  his  handsome  head  back  among  the  crimson 
velvet  cushions.  "I  am  out  with  father  for  good/' he 
went  on;  "  but  1  know  you  will  stand  by  me,  mother,  and 
your  gentle  woman's  heart  can  understand  these  delicate 
matters  better."  "S 

Mrs.  Carlisle  did  not  move  from  her  chair,  but  twisted 
the  diamonds  around  on  her  fingers  in  a  nervous  way,  quite 
dreading  to  break  the  news  to  him  of  Leonie's  absence,  he 
seemed  so  thoroughly  in  earnest  about  it. 

"  I  hope  Leonie  has  not  retired  yet,  for  I  must  see  her, 
to-night,  mother;  it  is  quite  important,  I  assure  you."*  ? 

Still  Mrs.  Carlisle  did  not  move  from  her  position  er 


70  LEONTl    LOCKE. 

«peak,  and  there  was  something  in  her  set  face  that  startled 
Gordon  more  than  he  would  have  cared  to  admit. 

*'  Come  to  me  to-morrow,  my  son,  and  we  will  talk  this 
matter  over;  it  is  late  now  and  I  fear  I  am  not  equal  to 
the  task  of  listening  to  a  long  recital." 

"  But  1  must  tell  you  at  once,"  replied  Gordon,  eagerly, 
*'  and  I  must  see  Leonie  to-night — it  is  imperative.  I  can 
tell  you  the  truth  in  a  very  few  words.  Father  has  seen 
•fit  to  turn  me  out  of  the  house,  and  I  shall  go  to-night. 
But  I  shall  take  Leonie  with  me,  and  I  shall  make  her  my 
wife  without  delay.  Yon  have  known  what  love  is,  moth 
er,  and  you  can  not  blame  me  for  giving  up  the  whole 
world  for  love's  sake." 

Mrs.  Carlisle  arose  and  crossed  over  to  where  he  sat. 

"  Gordon,"  she  said,  laying  her  white  jeweled  hands  on 
his  fair  curling  hair  and  smoothing  it  back  from  his  broad, 
white  brow,  "  1  have  something  to  tell  you,  but  you 
must  bear  it  like  a  noble  man. " 

No  inkling  of  what  she  had  to  tell  him  occurred  to  him, 
and  he  drew  down  the  white  jeweled  hand  and  kissed  it 
with  a  low,  musical  laugh,  as  he  answered : 

"  Why  do  you  make  such  a  mystery  of  what  you  have  to 
tell  me?  Does  it  concern  Leonie?" 

"  Yes,  it  concerns  Leonie  Locke,"  replied  Mrs.  Carlisle; 
"  she  Jias  gone. " 

•    "  Gone!    Why,  what  do  you  mean?"  exclaimed  Gordon, 
in  surprise. 

"  She  has  left  this  house  rather  thai\  see  you  again,"  she 
replied,  gently. 

Gordon  Carlisle  rose  to  his  feet  like  one  who  had  been 
stunned  by  a  sudden  and  terrible  blow.  He  could  scarce 
ly  believe  that  he  had  heard  aright.  In  a  single  instant  he 
was  a  changed  man,  all  the  happy  light  died  from  his  blue 
eyes,  and  his  face  was  set  and  white. 

"  There  is  some  terrible  mystery  behind  this,"  he  cried, 
seizing  his  hat  and  hurrvinff  toward  the  door.  "  I  shall. 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  71 

never  rest  night  or  day  until  1  have  found  heY.  I  left  hoi 
in  your  care,  mother,  and  you  have  betrayed  the  trust. 
My  God!  the  thought  of  that  pure  young  girl  oat  alone  on 
the  streets  at  this  time  of  night  is  enough  to  drive  me 
mad!" 

"  Listen,  Gordon,  just  for  one  moment,"  cried  Mrs. 
Carlisle,  fairly  drawing  him  by  main  force  into  the  room 
again.  "  You  must  know  why  this  girl  has  left  so  sud 
denly — she  left  because  the  power  of  gold  outweighed  her 
love  for  you. " 

"It  is  false!"  cried  Gordon  Carlisle,  hotly.  "If  an 
angel  from  heaven  told  me  that  1  should  still  say  it  was 
false.  You  are  my  mother,  and  I  refrain  from  giving 
full  vent  to  my  feelings. " 

"It  is  true,"  cried  Mrs.  Carlisle.  "I  said  to  myself 
when  you  told  me  you  loved  her  and  wished  to  make  her 
your  wife:  *  1  will  test  her  love  for  Gordon— if  she  loves 
him  for  himself  alone,  I  will  love  her  as  only  your  mother 
could,  but  if  she  loves  gold  better,  Gordon  must  know  it. ' 
I  confess  that  I  tempted  her,  Gordon,  and  she  yielded — she 
loved  gold  better  than  she  did  you.  Shall  I  tell  you  how 
it  was,  Gordon?"  she  asked,  timidly,  trying  to  draw  him 
down  to  the  sofa  beside  her. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  huskily;  "  tell  me  the  truth  of  this 
matter,  that  I  may  be  more  able  to  determine  where  to 
commence  my  search  for  Leonie.  I  can  not  and  will  not 
believe  she  willfully  fled  from  me — she  loved  me  too  well 
for  that.  Make  the  recital  brief,  please. " 

"  1  used  a  little  strategy  to  prove  her  affection  for  you. 
I  told  her  that  your  father  would  disinherit  you  at  once  if 
she  married  you.  I  pictured  the  life  of  poverty  you  would 
be  obliged  to  lead  with  her,  and  the  portrayal  disenchanted 
the  ambitious  working-girl  who  had  aimed  for  the  million, 
aire's  son  and  heir." 

"  Mother,"   said   Gordon.    "  speak  illy  of  me  if  yon 


¥55  LE01TCB 

choose,  but  1  pray  you  to  spare  Leonie's  name.  I  can  not 
bear  it — she  is  too  dear  to  me  for  that. " 

"  I  gave  her  her  choice/'  continued  Mrs.  Carlisle,  slow 
ly,  "  of  accepting  a  thousand  dollars  cash  and  going  her 
own  way,  or  staying  and  marrying  a  portionless  husband. 
'  I — I  think  I  do  not  love  your  son  well  enough  to  marry 
kim,  Mrs.  Carlisle/  she  said,  '  and  I  think  I  will  take  the 
money. '  " 

No  sound  issued  from  Gordon  Carlisle's  white  lips,  and 
she  went  on,  slowly: 

"I  gave  her  the  money,  Gordon,  and,  thrusting  it 
quickly  into  her  pocket,  she  caught  up  her  hat  and  sacque, 
saying,  eagerly:  *  Forgive  me  for  making  the  choice  I  have 
made,  and  ask  Gordon  to  forgive  me,  too.  1  could  not  en 
dure  poverty  with  him;  he  will  not  search  for  me  when  you 
tell  him  my  decision;  his  pride  will  keep  him  from  it.' 
And  with  these  words  on  her  false,  fair  lips,  the  beautiful 
young  girl  who  had  sold  her  heart  for  gold  turned  and  left 
the  house,  and  I  was  just  trying  to  nerve  myself  to  the  ter 
rible  task  of  telling  you  when  you  came  into  the  room. " 

Gordon  sunk  down  upon  a  chair  and  covered  his  face 
with  his  shaking  hands.  Strong,  blinding  tears  forced 
themselves  from  his  eyes,  but  they  were  no  disgrace  to  his 
noble  manhood. 

"  Talk  not  of  grief  till  ye  have  seen 
The  tears  of  warlike  men." 

It  never  occurred  to  him  that  his  mother,  of  all  people 
in  the  world,  would  deceive  him  on  such  a  vital  point  as 
this.  It  never  once  entered  his  mind  that  many  a  mother 
would  peril  her  very  soul,  if  it  were  the  price,  to  save  her 
child  from  a  marriage  which  she  considered  unequal. 

And  while  she  looked  on  at  her  son's  intense  anguish? 
she  comforted  herself  with  the  thought:  "Although  it  is 
hard  upon  him  now,  the  time  will  come  when  he  will  thank 
me  for  this,'* 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  73 

'"  You  will  not  have  to  leave  the  house  now,  Gordon," 
she  said.  "  You  have  had  a  hard  lesson,  bat  you  are 
brave.  You  will  soon  get  over  your  infatuation.  I  will 
leave  you  by  yourself  to  think  this  matter  out  calmly.  I 
am  going  to  my  room  now;  good-night,  Gordon." 

He  arose  and  clasped  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  the  lips 
that  had  dealt  him  such  a  cruel  blow  with  no  shadow  of 
suspicion. 

"  Good-bye,  mother/'  he  said,  hoarsely.  But  the  words 
were  spoken  so  softly  she  quite  thought  he  had  said  "  good 
night." 

Quickly  tearing  a  leaf  from  a  memorandum-book,  he 
penciled  the  following  lines  upon  it,  addressed  to  his 
mother: 

"  After  what  has  passed  between  father  and  I,  I  can  no 
longer  call  his  home  mine.  I  shall  do  my  best  to  find 
Lebnie  Locke  again,  for  life  without  her  would  be  simply 
unendurable.  No  doubt  you  meant  well  by  your  test 
to  prove  Leonie's  love  for  me,  but  it  would  have  been  a 
thousand  times  better  if  you  had  left  me  to  work  out  that 
problem  myself.  Good-bye,  mother. 

"  Your  unhappy  son, 

"  GORDON  CARLISLE." 

And  a  few  momenta  later  "  he  had  crossed  that  thresh 
old  forever,"  he  told  himself.  It  was  well  for  Gordon 
Carlisle  that  he  did  not  know  under  what  thrilling  circum 
stances  he  was  to  enter  that  house  again. 

As  he  reached  the  pavement,  he  passed  a  tall,  heavy-set 
man,  who  wore  a  long,  heavy  overcoat,  with  collar  turned 
up  and  a  slouch  hat  pulled  low  over  his  face.  If  Gordon 
Carlisle  had  taken  the  second  glance  at  the  man,  he  would 
have  recognized  his  discharged  foreman,  Charlie  Hart 

A  dark,  evil  gleam  flashed  from  his  eyes  as  they  rested 
upon  the  white,  thoughtful  face  of  Gordon  Carlisle. 

u  He  has  started  ooktosearcn  for  Leqnie,"  he  muttered 


?4  LEONIE    LOCK*,. 

under  his  breath, *'  but  he  will  not  find  her.    I  nave  taken 
too  good  care  of  her  for  that " 

What  would  handsome,  courteous  Gordon  Carlisle  say 
if  he  knew  where  pretty  Leonift  was  at  this  particular  mo 
ment? 

Charlie  Hart  paused  an  instant,  looking  up  at  the  grand 
old  mansion  home  of  the  Carlisles,  standing  so  grim  and 
dark  against  its  wintery  background,  under  the  pale> 
flickering  light  of  the  stars. 

"No  wonder  Leonie  chose  the  millonaire's  son,"  he 
muttered,  with  a  hoarse  laugh.  "  I  could  never  have 
given  her  a  h  >me  like  this,  yet  she  shall  be  mine;  she  shall 
share  my  fortunes  just  as  they  are. " 

He  opened  the  gate  noiselessly,  and  with  stealthy  steps 
gained  the  rear  of  the  house  just  as  Mrs.  Stuart,  the  house 
keeper,  was  locking  up  for  the  night 

He  opened  the  door  and  walked  in  without  ceremony. 

"  Good-evening,  Aunt  Stuart/'  he  said.  "  Have  you  an 
answer  to  that  letter  yet  that  I  gave  you  for  Miss  Dora 
Lancaster?" 

"  She  said  she  would  see  you  in  person  when  you  called." 

"  Then  go  and  tell  her  I  am  here,"  he  said,  impatiently. 

"  You  must  certainly  be  as  mad  as  a  March  hare  to 
think  I'd  tell  Dora  Lancaster  you  wanted  to  see  her  at  this 
time  o'  night,"  replied  Mrs.  Stuart,  angrily.  4t  You  are 
either  a  fool,  or  you  must  take  me  for  one." 

"By  no  means,  my  dear  aunt,"  he  replied,  coolly 
*'  But  all  the  same  I  am  determined  to  see  Dora  Lancaster, 
She  will  not  object  to  the  hour.  Go  *ell  her  I  am  here. " 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

DORA  LANCASTER  was  sitting  by  the  fire  in  her  exquisite 
pink  and  gold  boudoir  when  M.rs.  Stuart  delivered  the 
strange  message. 


LEONIE    LOCKE. 

*'  Tell  him  I  will  be  down  directly,"  said  Dora,  never 

if  ting  her  eyelids  from  the  glowing  coals. 

"  It  was  terribly  presumptuous  of  my  nephew  to  make 
such  an  outlandish  request  at  this  time  o'  night,  and  I'm 
sure  it  is  very  good  of  you  to  see  him,"  said  Mrs.  Stuart, 
apologetically. 

Dora  frowned  slightly,  but  made  her  no  answer,  and 
Mrs.  Stuart  went  down  to  her  sitting-room  again,  where 
she  had  left  Charlie  Hart,  strangely  puzzled  ovsr  the 
affair. 

"  You  need  not  wait  until  she  comes,  Aunt  Stuart;  1 
will  make  myself  comfortable,"  he  said;  "  don't  let  me 
keep  you  up." 

**  Be  sure  to  shut  the  hall  door  tightly  after  you,  Charlie; 
it  has  a  spring  lock,"  she  called,  as  she  took  up  her  small 
night-lamp  and  entered  her  own  room  across  the  halL 

He  had  not  long  to  wait.  In  a  very  few  moments  the 
door  opened,  and  Dora  Lancaster  glided  into  the  room. 

He  arose  with  a  low  bow,  proffering  his  hand,  which 
Miss  Lancaster  entirely  ignored. 

"  I  received  your  letter,"  she  said,  coldly,  "  and  in  it 
you  state  that  you  are  in  possession  of  several  secrets  con 
cerning  Gordon  Carlisle,  which  you  will  divulge  to  me  if  I 
will  make  it  wortjj  your  while.  Those  are  your  words,  I 
believe;  but  I  am  at  a. loss  to  know  why  you  should  write 
in  that  manner  to  me.  What  have  I  to  do  with  the  secret 
affairs  of  Gordon  Carlisle?"  she  asked,  eying  him  sharply 
with  her  glittering  blue  eyes. 

"  If  that  be  the  case,  1  beg  a  thousand  pardons.  I  waa 
under  the  impression  that  you  were  engaged  to  him. 
Kindly  forgive  me  for  giving  you  annoyance  when  I 
thought  only  of  rendering  you  a  service." 

As  he  spoke  he  started  toward  the  door.  Dora  saw  at 
once  that  she  had  been  too  hasty;  she  must  temporize  with 
him. 

"  You  have  aroused  HUE  curiosity  now,"  she  said,  smit 


LEONTE    LOCKE. 

ing  sweetly;  "and  I  am  determined  to  hear  what  yon  came 
Jiere  to  say.  '* 

A  curious  smile  flickered  under  Charlie  Hart's  dark 
mustache,  and  he  congratulated  himself  with  knowing  just 
how  to  bring  her  to  terms.  All  her  imperious,  haughty 
mannerism  was  utterly  lost  upon  him. 

"  I  will  tell  you  why  you  care  to  hear  what  I  have  to 
tell,"  he  said,  advancing  a  step  nearer  her.  "  You  love 
Gordon  Carlisle  with  a  love  that  will  overpower  all  ob 
stacles  to  win  him  in  the  end — a  love  that  will  prove  his 
blessing  or  a  curse. " 

For  a  moment  the  audacious  words  of  the  housekeeper's 
graceless  nephew  fairly  staggered  the  haughty  young  heir 
ess;  he  saw  it,  and  cleverly  followed  up  his  momentary 
advantage  before  she  could  recover  her  composure. 

"  You  love  him/'  he  reiterated,  "  but  he  does  not  care 
for  you,  Miss  Lancaster,  for  the  simple  reason  that  he  has 
wasted  the  love  you  would  die  to  gam  upon  a  common 
working-girl — Leonie  Locke." 

The  very  boldness  of  his  words  seemed  to  strike  Dora 
Lancaster  dumb.  He  had  gained  complete  mastery  over 
her  by  his  daring  assertions. 

"  He  would  love  you  if  it  were  not  for  Leonie  Locke/' 
he  said,  softly;  ki  and  1  should  think  you  would  be  glad  to 
have  her  safely  put  out  of  his  way  if  you  saw  a  safe  chance 
of  doing  it,"  he  added,  slowly,  meeting  her  keen  eyes  un 
flinchingly. 

"  That  is  strange  language  for  you  to  use  to  me,  Mr. 
Hart,"  she  answered,  at  length;  "  but  I  can  not  under 
stand  why  this  subject  should  interest  you  in  the  least; 
what  could  you  gain  or  lose  by  it  either  way?"  she  asked. 

A  harsh  laugh  that  was  terrible  to  hear  burst  from  his 
lips. 

"  1  will  tell  you  why  I  am  equally  interested  with  you  in 
this  affair,"  he  replied.  *'  You  love  Gordon  Carlisle,  while 
1  love  to  the  verjje  of  nv.*Hn«sa  oretty  Leonie  Locke,  and  if 


LEOKIE    LOCKE.  7? 


Lo  Bni/uid  ever  win  her  from  me  I  would  have  his  heart's 
blood  for  it;  1  am  a  desperate  man,  and  I  swear  no  one 
shall  come  between  me  and  Leonie  Locke. " 

In  a  single  instant  Dora  Lancaster  had  changed;  she 
took  in  the  exact  situation  of  affairs  at  a  single  glance,  and 
ihe  knew  this  man  would  be  the  one  above  all  others  in  the 
whole  wide  world  to  help  her  concoct  some  deep  scheme  to 
separate  Gordon  Carlisle  and  Leonie  Locke. 

She  forgot  her  haughty  pride,  forgot  everything,  in  the} 
exultation  of  the  thought  that  she  had  some  one  to  help 
her  to  separate  the  lovers. 

"  We  may  as  well  understand  each  other/'  she  whis 
pered,  motioning  him  back  to  his  seat  again.  "  You  are 
right — I  do  love  Gordon  Carlisle,  as  woman  never  loved 
man  before,  and  there  is  nothing  a  desperate  woman  would 
not  attempt  to  thrust  a  rival  from  the  arms  of  the  man  she 
loves.  Deep  as  your  love  is  for  that  girl  who  has  won  him 
from  me,  it  is  nothing,  1  say,  compared  to  mine  for  Gordon 
Carlisle.  You  must  have  had  some  plan  fixed  upon  when 
you  came  to  me  to-night/'  she  went  on,  eagerly  searching 
his  face  as  she  spoke;  "  if  so,  do  not  stand  upon  ceremony, 
as  it  seems  we  are  both  equally  interested  here;  and  if  it  is 
money  you  want  to  carry  out  your  scheme,  whatever  it 
may  be,  you  shall  not  feel  the  want  of  it,  if  you  can  only 
get  this  girl  out  of  the  way.  She  left  this  house  an  hour 
or  so  ago/'  she  went  on,  excitedly;  "  and  Gordon  left  soon 
after,  openly  declaring,  in  a  note  I  found  on  the  table  in 
the  library,  *  that  he  was  leaving  the  house  forever,  and 
that  he  would  search  for  Leonie  Locke  until  he  found  her, 
and  when  he  did  find  her  he  would  make  her  his  wife  with 
out  delay.'  You  must  follow  him  and  put  a  stop  to  it  in 
some  way,"  she  cried,  eagerly.  "  Go  quick!  every  moment 
you  are  losing  is  precious,  a  half  hour  more  and  you  may 
be  too  late,  she  may  be  his  wife  by  that  time. " 

"  Do  not  excite  yourself  unnecessarily,  my  dear  Miss 
Lancaster/'  he  replied,  with  aororra^ating  coolness;  "  I  do 


78  tEOHIE    LOCKE. 

not  anticipate  any  such  catastrophe  as  that.  Gordon  Car* 
lisle  could  not  find  Leonie  if  he  were  to  search  all  New 
York  for  her;  she  is  a  guest  of  mine,  or  rather  a  prisoner 
under  lock  and  key,  if  you  do  not  mind  the  harshness  of 
the  expression  at  this  particular  moment,"  replied  Charlie 
Hart,  complacently. 

"  I  do  not  quite  understand,"  said  Dora,  wonderingly? 
"  make  it  clear  to  me,  tell  me  how  it  came  about?" 

"  I  will  explain  it  with  pleasure,"  he  answered.  "  I 
can  not  go  into  details.  You  are  a  clever  young  lady,  and 
you  can  grasp  the  thread  of  my  narrative  if  I  skim  over 
the  details.  "Well,  I  followed  Leonie  Locke  here  the  night 
she  first  came  here,  and  I  witnessed  the  accident.  1  knew 
the  doctor  who  attended  her,  and  from  him  learned  how 
long  she  would  be  detained  here.  I  haunted  this  house  like 
a  veritable  shadow,  lest  she  should  escape  me,  and  the  con 
sequence  was,  when  she  rushed  out  of  this  house  onto  the 
street  to-night  the  little  fairy  rushed  pell-mell  into  my 
arms.  There  was  no  chance  for  an  outcry — 1  was  too 
clever  for  that.  A  little  chloroform  which  I  happened  to 
have  by  me,  came  in  handy,  and  I  had  no  difficulty  what 
ever  in  removing  her  to  my  bachelor  den,  as  I  call  it.  She 
will  not  come  to  for  an  hour  or  so,  and  I  thought  I  would 
come  and  see  which  of  you  I  could  make  the  best  terms 
with.  Shall  I  go  to  Gordon  Carlisle  and  demand  a  good 
sum  for  telling  him  of  the  whereabouts  of  his  pretty  sweet 
heart,  or  can  I  make  terms  with  you  to  keep  her  hidden 
away  forever  from  the  gaze  of  mortal  man?" 

"  You  said  a  moment  since  that  you  wanted  to  separate 
this  girl  and  Gordon  Carlisle,  and  now  you  say  you  would 
give  her  up  to  him  for  gold,"  said  the  shrewd,  suspicious 
Dora. 

*4  It  would  be  an  easy  matter  to  abduct  her  again  the 
very  next  hour,  if  I  had  his  money  to  work  on,"  replied 
Charlie  Hart. 

"  You  did  well  to  nrnue  to  m*  tot,"  she  responded, 


LEONH8    LOCKE.  79 

shaking  her  red-gold  curls.  "  I  will  pay  you  well  to  keep 
them  apart. " 

As  she  spoke  she  put  her  hand  into  the  pocket  of  her 
dress  and  drew  out  a  roll  of  bills,  which  Charlie  Hart  ac 
cepted  without  comment. 

"  You  must  help  me  with  this  affair,  Miss  Lancaster/' 
he  said.  "  I  have  a  most  ingenious  plan  to  propose,  but  it 
will  take  a  young  and  handsome,  as  well  as  persuasive2 
woman  to  help  me  carry  it  out  successfully." 

"  I  am  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  it — that  is,  nothing 
except  furnishing  the  money, "  she  replied,  haughtily, 
"  that  was  the  contract." 

"  I  will  explain  what  1  want  you  to  do,  and  I  know  you 
will  agree  to  it;  remember,  it  is  to  part  Gordon  Carlisle 
and  Leonie  Locke  effectually/' 

For  an  hour  or  more  Charlie  Hart  talked  low  and 
rapidly,  while  Dora  Lancaster  listened  breathlessly  to  the 
cruel  plot  which  was  to  bJight  the  pure  young  life  of  Leonie 
Locke. 

Jealousy,  that  demon  that  makes  fiends  of  men  and 
women,  deadened  her  heart  to  all  womanly  pity  or  mercy. 

"  I  will  do  it,"  she  said,  hoarsely;  "  we  could  not  trust 
so  terrible  a  secret  to  a  third  disinterested  party. " 

"  Good!"  replied  Charlie  Hart.  "  With  your  co-opera 
tion  I  shall  be  sure  of  success. " 

And  when  the  midnight  bells  tolled  the  hour,  the  schem 
ing,  discharged  foreman  and  the  wealthy  heiress  who  was 
selling  her  very  soul  and  conscience  for  the  sake  of  her 
xnad,  hopeless  love  parted,  ready  to  set  on  foot  the  follow 
ing  day  the  cruelest  plot  that  ever  was  woven. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

CHARLIE  HAKT  had  spoken  the  truth.  As  Leonie  had 
rushed  frantically  from  the  house,  she  had  rushed  pell-mell 
into  the  arms  of  Jhe  treacherous  f oe  whom  she  dreaded 


$0  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

above  all  others,  and  the  shock  almost  took  her  breath 
*way. 

"  We  meet  again  at  last,  my  charming  Leonie/'  ex 
claimed  Charlie  Hart,  exultantly;  "  and  this  time  I  shall 
take  more  care  in  securing  the  little  wild  bird  I  hare  taken 
such  pains  to  recapture." 

With  beating  heart,  and  almost  faulting  from  sheer 
Bright,  Leonie  tore  herself  from  his  grasp,  crying  out,  in- 
^Ugnantly: 

1  "  Let  me  pass,  sir!  How  dare  you  persecute  a  friendless 
girl  like  this?  Remember,  we  are  on  a  crowded  street 
now,  and  if  you  do  not  go  your  way  and  let  me  go  mine,  1 
shall  call  for  help,  and  some  one  will  come  to  my  rescue; 
so  I  do  not  fear  you." 

She  tried  to  wrench  her  hand  from  his  grasp;  but  the 
firm  fingers  closed  over  her  arm  like  bands  of  steel. 

"  Listen  to  me,  Leonie  Locke,"  he  whispered,  drawing 
»  step  nearer  and  tightening  his  hold  upon  her  arm.  "  I 
ask  you  again,  and  once  for  all,  will  you  be  my  wife? 
There  is  nothing  I  would  not  do  to  win  you.  I  have  often 
heard  that  love  made  men  desperate,  and  I  laughed  at  the 
motion;  but  I  do  not  laugh  at  it  now — I  can  understand 
now  why  it  is  so." 

"  Your  love  and  your  hatred  are  all  the  same  to  me/' 
cried  Leonie,  spiritedly,  the  swift  color  kindling  her  pale 
face  with  its  crimson  glow,  and  her  lovely  dark  eyes  blaz 
ing  like  stars.  "  Your  very  presence  is  an  insult,  and 
unless  you  release  my  arm  at  once  1  shall  do  just  as  I  said 
— call  help  to  rid  myself  of  your  unwelcome  society." 

"Take  care,  my  spirited  beauty,  lest  you  try  my 
patience  too  far,"  lie  cried,  warningly.  "What  is  your 
strength  compared  to  mine,  if  I  choose  to  exert  it  in 
silencing  you?  You  think  I  am  not  as  rich  or  handsome 
«s  Gordon  Carlisle  is,"  he  went  on,  recklessly;  "  but  let 
me  tell  you  I  have  found  another  position  in  the  New  York 
Custom  House,  wj^eia  I. shall  make  a  solid  fortune,  and 


LEOKIB    LOCKE.  81 

you  shall   have  silks  and  diamonds  and  everything  yo« 
want  if  you  will  only  marry  me,  Leonie." 

The  superb  scorn  on  the  beautiful  young  face  angered 
him  as  much  as  her  words  had  don«. 

"  I  despise  you,  Charles  Hart,"  she  cried;  "  mere  words 
can  not  tell  how  much!  and  I  would  not  marry  you  if  you 
had  all  the  wealth  in  the  world.  I  shall  ask  you  jus*  this 
once:  Will  you  let  me  go  my  way  in  peace?" 

He  did  not  notice  the  last  part  of  her  sentence. 

"  You  do  not  love  me  because  you  have  given  your  heart 
to  Gordon  Carlisle,  the  millionaire's  son,"  he  hissed^ 
cruelly  tightening  his  clasp  on  Leonie's  arm — "you,  a 
working-girl,  whom  the  handsome  young  heir  might  flirt 
with  in  secret  if  he  thought  no  one  would  know  it,  but 
who  would  pass  you  by  with  a  haughty  stare  if  you  pre 
sumed  upon  your  acquaintance  by  speaking  to  him  before* 
any  one  in  his  own  set,"  he  added,  tauntingly. 

He  could  see  that  his  malicious  taunt  had  struck  home 
by  the  fears  that  struggled  through  the  long,  curling  lashes 
that  lay  like  a  fringe  of  jetty  silk  on  the  beautiful  crimsoiL 
cheek. 

Like  a  flash,  Leonie  wrenched  her  arm  free  from  In* 
grasp  and  darted  down  the  street  with  the  speed  of  a 
hunted  deer,  and  with  a  muttered  oath  Charlie  Hart  dashed 
after  her  in  close  pursuit. 

As  usual,  when  policemen  are  needed  in  moments  of 
great  peril,  they  are  nowhere  to  be  seen,  and  it  happened 
so  in  this  case. 

Onward,  pantingly,  block  after  block,  dashed  Leonie, 
with  Charlie  Hart  scarcely  an  arm's-length  behind  her. 
The  terrified  girl  noticed  that  he  was  gaining  upon  her 
every  instant;  her  red  lips  parted  to  call  out  shrilly  for 
help,  but  before  she  could  utter  one  sound  Charlie  Hart's 
arm  was  thrown  quickly  around  her  neck  and  his  hand 
pressed  down  tightly  over  her  tremulous  lips. 

"  It  is  not  quite  so  eaav  to  escape  me  as  you  seem  to  inr 


8xJ  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

agine,  my  scornful  little  beauty,"  he  cried,  exultantly. 
"  You  see  you  are  as  much  in  my  power  on  the  street  as 
you  were  when  I  had  you  under  lock  and  key;  and  there  is 
one  thing  I  have  to  thank  you  for — like  the  moth  who  flut 
tered  straight  into  the  flame  of  the  candle,  you  have  headed 
for  the  very  street  where  1  thought  I  should  be  obliged  to 
carry  you  by  main  force.  You  see  what  an  immense 
amount  of  trouble  you  have  saved  me.  Look  up  at  the 
house  toward  the  left  there  and  see  if  you  recognize  it. " 

He  held  his  hand  so  closely  over  her  mouth  she  could 
-not  utter  a  sound,  but  the  horror  expressed  in  the  dark, 
.frightened  eyes  told  him  plainly  enough  that  she  recog 
nized  the  house  as  the  one  from  which  she  had  made  her 
escape  that  memorable  night.  In  a  moment  he  had  raised 
the  slight,  girlish  figure  in  his  powerful  arms,  and  bore  her 
quickly  into  the  house  and  up  into  the  room  in  which  she 
had  once  before  been  imprisoned. 

"  I  have  a  little  business  to  transact  just  now,  and  I 
think  I  will  take  extra  precautions  to  find  you  here  when 
I  return,"  he  exclaimed,  producing  a  sponge  and  a  small 
vial  from  his  pocket  as  he  spoke,  and  quickly  removing  his 
hand  from  her  mouth  he  placed  the  dampened  sponge  to 
her  nostrils. 

In  a  single  instant  the  horrible  truth  rushed  over  poor 
Leonie — it  was  chloroform!. 

"  Oh,  Father  in  heaven,  do  not  desert  me  now!"  she 
wailed  out,  sharply.  "  Save  me!  save  me!  save  me!" 

The  last  word  ended  in  a  gasp,  and  that  horrible  drug 
'which  has  figured  prominently,  alas!  so  often  in  the  his 
tory  of  terrible  crimes,  and  which  has  so  often  proved  a 
curse  instead  of  a  boon  and  a  blessing,  was  already  com 
mencing  its  fatal,  deadly  work  upon  Leonie  'a  confused 
senses. 

Charlie  Hart's  face,  which  was  bending  over  her,  seemed 
to  be  whirling  around  her,  a  deathly  sweetness  seemed  to 
stifle  her,  stars  seemed  to  fall  thickly  about  her  like  ? 


LEOKIE    LOCKE.  83 

shower  of  scorching,  suffocating  balls  of  blazing  fire;  then 
t&e  exultant,  fiendish  face  of  her  persecutor  seemed  to  fade 
into  the  red  glow  of  the  flames,  and  the  darkness  of  death 
closed  in  about  her.  The  chloroform  had  done  its  work — 
Leonie  was  powerless  and  at  the  villain's  mercy. 

There  are  strong  healthy  natures  which  quickly  counter 
act  the  drug's  deadening  influence,  and  Leonie's  happened 
to  be  one  of  them.  Charlie  Hart  had  not  been  away  from 
the  room  in  which  he  had  placed  the  unconscious  girl  safe 
ly  under  lock  and  key  fifteen  minutes  before  Leonie 's  scat 
tered  senses  returned  to  her,  and  she  struggled  to  her  feet 
with  a  suppressed  cry  of  terror,  looking  eagerly  around 
her,  fearful  lest  she  should  see  the  dark,  evil  face  of 
Charlie  Hart,  and  his  exultant,  wicked  eyes  gazing  upon 
her  from  the  dense  shadows  which  wrapped  the  further  end 
of  the  room. 

"Where  is  he?"  thought  Leonie,  almost  fainting  with 
fear,  as  she  gazed  around  the  well-remembered  room. 

As  she  had  expected,  the  door  was  securely  locked,  as 
was  the  window  from  which  she  had  made  her  exit  down 
the  fi?«-escape. 

"  I  am  lost — lost — lost!"  cried  Leonie,  falling  on  her 
kneea.  "  There  is  no  escape  for  me  now.  Oh,  angels  up 
in  heaven,  listen  to  the  prayer  of  an  unprotected  orphan 
girl,  and  show  me  some  means  of  escape  from  this  man 
who  is  hunting  me  down." 

No  appeal  from  pure  lips  was  ever  made  in  vain  to  the 
God  who  watches  over  the  innocent  and  unprotected,  and 
the  sound  of  those  passionate,  pitiful  words  had  scarcely 
died  away  on  her  quivering  lips  ere  her  glance  fell  upon  a 
bright  brass  key  hanging  on  a  nail  close  by  the  door. 

Trembling  so  that  she  could  scarcely  walk,  Leonie  crept 
toward  it  and  took  it  down.  Would  it  give  her  freedom, 
or  would  it  doom  her  to  despair  more  cruel  than  death? 
One  breathless  moment,  and  the  trembling  fingers  had  in 
serted  the  key.  Ob*  jovl.jiovl  -God  had  heard  her  praye* 


84  LEOKIE    LOOSE. 

i 

The  key  turned  in  the  lock,  and  the  door  swung  open,  ft 
was  a  pass-key,  which  Charlie  Hart  had  quite  forgotten  the 
existence  of,  which  had  hung  unnoticed  there  for  a  year  or 
more,  and  which  Heaven  had  destined  for  this  very  use. 
A  moment  more  and  Leonie  was  on  the  street  again;  but, 
alas!  Heaven  help  her,  which  way  should  she  go? 

It  is  well  for  those  whom  Heaven  has  blessed  with  homes 
fchat  they  know  not  the  awful  despair  that  settled  over  that 
forlorn  young  heart  as  she  stood  irresolutely  gazing  up  and 
down  the  snow-covered  street,  not  knowing  which  way  to 
turn  for  shelter. 

At  that  moment  a  woman's  figure  flitted  hurriedly  up 
the  street  on  the  opposite  pavement,  and  stopped  short 
directly  opposite  the  shadowy  door-way  in  which  Leonie 
stood,  and  after  a  moment's  hesitation  she  crossed  the 
street,  and  walked  deliberately  up  to  the  door-way  in  which 
Leonie  was  attempting  to  conceal  herself  in  the  dense 
shadows. 

There  was  something  familiar  in  the  red  plaid  shawl  and 
brown  ruffled  dress  of  the  girl  who  crossed  the  street  so 
rapidly,  and  as  the  light  of  the  gas-lamp  fell  full  upon  her 
face  Leonie  recognized  her  instantly  as  Kate  Hardy,  one 
of  the  girls  who  worked  in  the  fur-trimming  department 
of  Messrs.  Lincoln  &  Carlisle. 

In  her  present  state  of  misfortune,  Leonie  never  ques 
tioned  herself  as  to  what  Kate  could  possibly  be  doing  there 
at  that  late  hour  of  the  night,  but  hurried  eagerly  out  of 
the  shadows,  exclaiming,  piteously: 

"  Miss  Hardy,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you;  please  stop  just 
one  moment.  1  am  not  a  stranger  to  you;  I  ain  Leonie 
Locke,  the  girl  who  was  in  your  work-room,  and  sat  at  the 
same  table  with  you  only  a  short  month  ago.  I  am  house 
less,  homeless,  Miss  Hardy,  and  1  beg  you  to  take  me 
home  with  you  just  for  to-nigbt. " 

"  I  know  you,  Leonie  Locke/'  cried  the  girl,  with  supi 
pressed  fury,  "  I  could  »>ew_  f urtfet  ..YOU,  for  you  stole  mj 


;...-.  HOWIE  LOCKE.  85 

lover,  Charlie  Hart,  from  me.  Bat  I  will  forgive  you  foi 
it,"  she  cried,  with  a  itrfll  laugh.  '*  Come  along  with 
me,  pretty  Leonie — to  t»eur  death/5  she  added,  below  hei 
breath. 


CHAPTER  XVL 

No  lurking  thought  of  evil  intent  crossed  Leonie's  mind 
as  Kate  Hardy  -uttered  the  last  words;  and  she  gladly 
availed  herself  of  the  opportunity  of  accompanying  Kate 
to  her  humble  lodgings. 

"  What  were  you  doing  near  Charlie  Hart's  room  to 
night?"  asked  Kate,  after  they  had  proceeded  together 
some  distance. 

"  I  was  brought  there  by  force,"  answered  Leonie. 
"  All  I  can  tell  you  of  that  terrible  affair  is  this,  Kate: 
Charlie  Hart  has  vowed  that  I  shall  marry  him;  and  he 
locked  me  up  in  the  room,  from  which  I  have  just  now 
escaped." 

"  Does  he  love  you?"  asked  Kate  Hardy,  scarcely  above 
a  whisper,  as  they  walked  along  together  arm  in  arm. 

"He  says  so,"  answered  Leonie,  with  a  shudder.  She 
dicl  not  see  the  sudden  pallor  that  crept  into  the  face  of 
the  girl  who  walked  beside  her  or  the  terrible  fire  of  jeal 
ousy  that  blazed  in  her  black  eyes. 

Kate  Hardy's  heart  was  so  bitter  against  Leonie  at  that 
moment  that  she  could  have  murdered  her;  and  she  hated 
with  all  her  strength  the  beautiful  girl  who  had  come  be 
tween  her  and  her  fickle  lover. 

They  crossed  the  river  to  New  York,  and  taking  a  car( 
rode  to  the  end  of  the  route,  when  they  alighted  and  walked 
along  in  silence  for  several  blocks;  then  suddenly  Leonie 
turned  to  Kate,  exclaiming: 

"  1  never  knew  you  lived  as  far  out  as  this,  Kate.  Why, 
we  are  on  the  outskirts  of  the  city!" 

"  It  isn't  much  fini:hftr."~renliad  J^ate,  in  a  hard,  coir 


8$  LEONIE    LOOSE. 

strained  roioe.  "  I  guess  we  had  better  cross  over  and 
follow  the  railroad  track  up.  I  live  on  the  Harlem  road, 
you  know,  and  it's  nearer  that  way/' 

Never  dreaming  of  the  fatal  web  which  was  closing  in 
around  her,  Leonie  followed  the  girl  without  the  least  sus 
picion.  They  walked  upon  the  railroad  track  for  a  mile  or 
more,  until  they  had  reached  a  narrow  gorge  or  ravine. 
Toward  the  right  was  a  steep  projection  of  ice-covered 
rocks,  around  which  the  track  curved  abruptly.  It  wai 
the  most  dangerous  portion  of  the  Harlem  road,  owicg  to 
the  fact  that  any  object  which  might  obstruct  the  track 
could  not  be  seen  by  the  engineer  until  the  train  had 
rounded  the  abrupt  curve. 

"  This  is  the  place,  above  all  others,"  muttered  Kate 
3Iardy,  hoarsely,  to  herself,  as  she  wheeled  suddenly  about 
and  grasped  Leonie  by  both  shoulders.  "  I've  got  you 
just  where  I  want  you  now,  Leonie  Locke!"  she  hissed. 
"  When  you  crossed  my  path,  and  stole  away  my  lover,  I 
put  a  black  cross  against  your  name,  and  that  meant  that 
your  days  were  numbered!  I  shall  take  a  glorious  revenge 
upon  you;  you  shall  never  see  the  light  of  another  day! 
Say  your  prayers,  if  you  know  any,  for  your  last  hour  has 
come!" 

"You  frighten  me,  Kate!"  gasped  Leonie.  "  Don't 
clasp  my  shoulders  so  tightly;  you  hurt  me!  I  have  been 
very,  very  ill,  Kate;  and  1  am  too  weak  for  such  a  joke." 

"  A  joke!  Ah-ha !"  cried  Kate  Hardy,  fiercely.  "  Did 
you  think  it  a  joke  to  steal  Charlie  Hart  from  me,  when 
you  knew  he  was  my  lover — mine,  all  mine — before  he  saw 

you?" 

'*  I  never  meant  to  take  away  any  one's  lover,"  answered 
Leonie,  gazing  up  into  the  girl's  rage-distorted  face. 

"  It's  a  lie!  Yes,  a  lie!"  hissed  Kate,  her  intense  rage 
growing  more  fierce  with  every  word.  *'  You  did  mean  to 
do  it;  and  you  try  to  cheat  and  hoodwink  me,  pretending 
you  do  not  want  hizn.1  w^*fc  war*  *<ui^doing  up  in  that 


IEONIE    LOCKE.  3? 

loom  to-night,  if  not  to  see  him  whom  you  have  stole* 
from  me?" 

**  You  are  mad,  Kate,  to  accuse  me  so  cruelly,"  gasped 
Leonie. 

Another  horrible  laugh  interrupted  her. 

"  Yes,  I  am  mad — mad,  that's  the  word! — and  you 
have  driven  me  to  it,  Leonie  Locke!  But  1  shall  take  a 
fearful  vengeance  on  you  here  and  now;  for  you  shall  die 
right  here!  Then  he  will  be  mine — all  mine — again!" 

With  a  fear  too  horrible  to  be  frame  in  words,  Leonie 
gazed  up  into  the  girl's  rage-distorted  face.  It  was  no 
joke,  no  delusion,  but  a  fearful  truth!  She  read  murder 
in  the  black,  lurid  eyes  gazing  down  into  her  own. 

"  I  never  meant  to  harm  you  by  word,  act,  or  deed, 
Kate!"  cried  Leonie.  "  I  do  not  want  your  lover.  Have 
pity  on  me,  and  show  some  signs  of  forgiveness!  You 
terrify  me,  Kate!  For  one  little  moment  I  almost  believed 
you  meant  to  murder  me  here  in  this  isolated  place!" 

No  answer  came  from  the  girl's  hard-set  lips;  but  the 
deadly  purpose  in  her  eyes  grew  more  intense  in  the  white, 
solemn  moonlight. 

"  Say  your  prayers,  if  you  know  any,  Leonie  Locke,  for 
your  hour  has  come!"  she  hissed,  hoarsely;  and  before 
Leonie  had  a  moment's  time  to  think  or  act,  Kate  Hardy 
had  suddenly  raised  her  slight  form  in  her  strong  arms 
and  deliberately  kid  her  across  the  track. 

A  wild,  piercing  cry  for  help  rang  out  on  the  night  air, 
Jying  away  in  a  low  moan  in  the  ravine  beyond.  In  vain 
-Leoiiie  struggled  and  pleaded;  there  was  no  mercy  in  the 
fiendish  face  bending  over  her,  and  despite  her  struggles, 
Kate  Hardy  succeeded  in  pinioning  her  hands  and  feet  and 
securely  fastening  her  io  the  track. 

No  one  heard  the  piercing  cries  for  help  that  fell  from 
the  lips  of  the  terrified  girl,  as  she  realized  the  full  horror 
of  her  terrible  position. 

*'  Now  you  saxudi*  time*.  'Leonie  Locke!"  cried  Kate, 


88  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

with  ft  horrible  laugh.  "  A  few  minutes  more  and  the 
New  York  train  will  pass  this  point.  I  leave  you  to  your 
fate.  There  won't  be  much  left  of  your  pretty  faoe  half 
An  hour  from  now!  You  came  between  me  and  my  lover, 
and  now  you  shall  pay  for  it  with  your  life!" 

And  with  the  cries  of  poor,  frantic  Leonie  ringing  in  hei 
cars,  Kate  Hardy,  whom  raging  jealousy  had  rendered  a 
fiend  incarnate,  turned  deliberately  and  left  Leonie  Locke 
to  her  horrible  fate. 

And  as  the  steps  of  the  inhuman  girl  died  away  over  the 
crusty  snow  in  the  distance,  the  sound  of  an  engine-bell, 
heralding  the  approach  of  the  down-train,  fell  like  a  knell 
of  doom  upon  the  ears  of  Leonie,  who  was  almost  fainting 
with  horror. 

Never  had  life  seemed  so  sweet  to  her  as  now!  She  was 
so  young  to  die!  Oh!  it  was  bitterly  cruel  to  think  of  the 
horrible  death  that  awaited  her  so  soon! 

Her  long,  brown,  silky  curls  swept  the  cold  steel  track 
like  a  dusky  signal  of  warning,  and  her  white  face  and 
horror-stricken  eyes  were  turned  toward  the  starry  domt* 
above  her — the  starry  heavens,  from  which  God  looked 
down  and  saw  her  peril,  and  listened  to  that  wild  appeal 
for  deliverance  from  the  certain  death  that  was  sweeping 
down  upon  her! 

In  vain  she  struggled  to  free  herself  from  the  thongs 
that  bound  her;  useless,  useless! — the  cruel  cords  but  cut 
the  deeper  into  her  tender  flesh. 

Suddenly  the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  fell  upon  her  ear* 
and  the  next  moment  a  horseman  dashed  in  sight.  Had 
God  answered  her  prayer?  Was  deliverance  at  hand? 
Leonie  made  a  desperate  effort  to  cry  out;  but  the  hoarse 
cry  upon  her  lips  died  away,  leaving  no  sound,  for  at  that 
instant  the  man  had  spoken  to  his  horse,  urging  it  to 
greater  speed,  as  he  patted  its  arched,  glossy  neck. 

What  was  there  in  that  kind,  gentle  tone  that  held 
Leonie  spell-bound  fta~«ba-liataDi&£~.  Her  brain  seemed 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  89 

whirling,  and  her  heart,  for  an  instant,  ceased  to  beat  II 
was  the  voice  of  Gordon  Carlisle.  He  touched  the  mettle 
some  horse  with  his  riding-whip. 

"  We  must  cross  the  track  before  the  train  reaches  us, 
Hero,"  he  cried,  impatiently,  again  touching  the  flank  of 
the  steed  with  his  whip. 

But  Hero  had  noticed  that  strange,  dark  object  lying 
motionless  across  the  track,  and  swerved  aside  with  a  sud 
denness  that  nearly  unseated  his  rider;  and  the  next  in 
stant  both  horse  and  man  had  cleared  the  intervening 
space  to  the  main  road,  and  were  far  beyond  the  hearing 
of  the  wailing,  piteous  voice  that  the  night  winds  seemed 
to  mock  in  the  intensity  of  its  thrilling  despair. 

"  God  has  forgotten  me!"  she  wailed;  "  and  I  am  left 
to  die!" 

A  few  fleeting  seconds  more  and  the  ponderous  engine 
would  crush  her.  How  little  Gordon  Carlisle  knew  that 
the  young  girl  whom  he  would  have  sheltered  with  his  very 
life,  for  whom  he  had  given  up  home  and  luxury — Leonie, 
whom  he  loved  so  madly,  so  passionately — lay  at  that  mo 
ment  in  such  horrible  danger,  while  he  had  been  almost 
within  reach  of  her. 

And  every  instant  the  clang  of  the  engine-bell  that 
drowned  out  that  wailing,  horrible  cry  for  help  sounded 
nearer  and  nearer! 

One  moment  more  and  the  curve  would  be  reached, 
and  the  next  instant  Leonie  Locke  would  be  crushed  be 
neath  the  wheels.  The  rails  shook,  and  tht  ponderous  en 
gine  dashed  up  to  the  curve  and  rounded  it.  Leonie  lay  in 
a  dead  faint,  unconscious  of  the  awful  doom  rushing  down 
upon  her! 


CHAPTER  XV1L 

THE  train  for  New  York  was  twenty  minutes  behind 


time.     The  fireman  h«Ans  more  coal  into  the  furnace^ 


90  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

watching  covertly  out  of  the  corners  of  his  eyes  the  en« 
gineer,  Bill  Harris,  who  stands  thoughtfully  before  the 
window,  with  his  hand  on  the  lever,  while  the  train,  puffing 
and  panting,  dashes  on  through  the  darkness  of  the  night 

"  I  hope  you're  not  thinking  yet  of  that  nonsense  we 
were  talking  about  when  the  train  started/'  said  the  fire 
man,  throwing  down  his  shovel  with  a  hearty  laugh,  and 
crossing  over  to  the  window  where  Bill  Harris  the  engi 
neer  still  stood  in  the  same  thoughtful  position.  '*  You're 
fche  most  superstitious  man  I  ever  saw!"  he  went  on;  "  you 
see,  we  are  almost  at  the  end  of  the  route  now,  and  noth 
ing  has  happened,"  he  added,  triumphantly. 

No  answering  smile  broke  the  gravity  of  the  engineer's 
swarthy  face. 

"  We're  not  at  the  end  of  the  route  yet,  and  1  sha'n't 
breathe  freely  until  we  slack  up  in  the  New  York  depot. 
I've  been  running  on  the  road  twenty  odd  years  now,  and 
we  old  railroaders  know  what  signs  mean  when  we  see  'em. 
You  can  talk  about  superstition,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing, 
but  when  an  engineer  sees  a  white  rabbit  leap  across  the 
track  when  the  sun  is  going  down,  let  him  look  out  for  his 
train — a  terrible  accident  follows.'* 

A  cold  shudder  ran  over  the  fireman's  sturdy  frame; 
although  he  laughed  and  ridiculed  the  idea,  somehow  the 
solemn  words  of  the  engineer  impressed  him  strangely. 

"  Why  didn't  you  shoot  the  rabbit  then  to-day  when 
you  saw  it  making  for  the  track?  Run  slow,  and  keep  a 
sharp  lookout,  and  I  guess  we'll  pull  through  all  right," 
said  the  fireman,  cheerily. 

"  I've  run  so  slow  I've  lost  twenty  minutes  now,"  re 
torted  the  engineer;  '*  and  I  must  turn  on  more  steam  at 
once.  And  there,  another  reason  I  have  for  fearing  some 
startling  calamity:  a  woman  was  the  first  to  board  the  train 
when  we  took  on  the  passengers  at  Albany. " 

"  Is  there  a  sign  about  that?"  asked  the  fireman,  laugh- 


1EONIB    LOCKE.  91 

Sng  outright  at  the  notion.  "  That's  the  worst  I  eve* 
heard  of!" 

"  There's  many  a  conductor  that  would  have  prevented 
a  woman  from  entering  his  car  first,  if  it  cost  him  his  posi 
tion;  there's  just  that  much  to  it,"  replied  the  engineer, 
sighing.  "  And  when  I  saw  the  rabbit  cross,  I  said  to  my 
self,  '  Bill  Harris,  old  boy,  look  out  for  yourself,  for  you 
may  never  see  Nancy  and  the  babies  again.  This  may  be 
your  last  trip!*  But  I  didn't  try  to  find  a  substitute.  I'll 
stick  to  the  old  engine  like  a  soldier  at  his  post." 

"  I  guess  Fll  shake  the  railroad  business  after  this  trip!" 
ayclaimed  the  fireman,  nervously;  "  you've  worked  me  up 
to  such  a  pitch,  I'd  get  to  be  a  raving  luny  dreaming  of 
white  rabbits  and  women  after  these  night  runs."  As 
he  spoke,  the  engine  whirled  with  lightning  rapidity  round 
the  fatal  abrupt  curve  around  the  rocks. 

There  was  a  terrible  hoarse  cry  from  the  engineer: 

"My  God!  my  prediction  has  come  true!"  he  cried; 
'*  there  is  a  log  across  the  track  to  wreck  the  train!" 

With  an  effort,  born  of  intense  horror,  he  whistled 
down-brakes.  "Would  it  be  too  late?  All  the  agony  of  a 
life-time  was  crowded  into  the  awful  moment  that  followed. 
A  single  instant  more  and  the  engine  would  sweep  across 
the  dark  object  lying  so  motionless  across  the  track.  With 
a  flying  leap,  the  old  engineer  had  gained  the  cow-catcher, 
and  at  that  instant  the  speed  of  the  engine  slackened  per 
ceptibly,  it  quivered  an  instant,  and  then  stood  still. 

"  It  is  a  woman!"  cried  the  engineer.  "  And,  my  God! 
she  is  bound  fast  to  the  track!" 

In  an  instant  the  greatest  excitement  prevailed.  Pas 
sengers  had  left  the  coaches,  and  were  hurrying  breathless 
ly  to  the  spot.  The  bright,  glaring  light  from  the  engine 
fell  full  upon  the  pallid  face,  beautiful  as  a  dream,  and  the 
sweeping  veil  of  glossy,  brown  hair. 

"  A  beautiful  young  girl,  found  bound  fast  to  the  track!" 
ras  the  startling  QT..V  that  raiur  from  lip  to  lip  of  the 


93  LEOFIE    LOCKE. 

startled  passengers.  "Another  moment,  and  the  traia 
would  have  passed  over  her. "  And  more  than  one  prayer 
of  thankfulness  that  the  life  of  the  lovely  young  stranger 
had  been  so  miraculously  saved  trembled  on  the  lips  of  the 
gentlemen  and  ladies  present. 

"  Who  is  she?'*  asked  a  pompous  old  gentleman,  step 
ping  forward.  "  Is  there  no  clew  to  her  identity?" 

Yes;  there  was  a  little  velvet  purse  in  her  pocket  which 
contained  a  few  coins  and  a  card  bearing  the  name  of 
Leonie  Locke. 

The  effect  produced  upon  the  pompous  old  gentleman 
was  wonderful 

"  Leonie  Locke!  Was  that  the  name  I  understood  you  to 
say?"  he  inquired,  excitedly.  "  Why,  good  heavens!  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  that  is  the  name  of  a  young  girl  I  have 
been  searching  for  for  a  year  or  so.  I  am  William  Barrett, 
attorney,  and  a  client  of  mine,  who  died  some  time  ago, 
has  left  a  solid  fortune  of  a  million  of  dollars  to  his  grand 
daughter,  Leonie  Locke.  Well,  now,  I  really  wonder  if 
this  pretty  little  creature  will  turn  out  to  be  the  one  I  am 
looking  for!" 

"  It  would  be  just  too  lovely  for  anything,  and  just  like 
a  romance!"  said  the  ladies.  "Oh!  I  do  hope  she  will 
turn  out  to  be  the  one  she  is  so  exquisitely  lovely!" 

The  question  was  soon  settled.  The  great,  dark,  velvety 
eyes  flashed  open,  and  the  crimson  lips  parted  in  an  audible 
sigh,  as  those  starry  eyes  wandered  mutely  over  the  sea  of 
strange  faces  around  her. 

"  Where  am  I?  Oh,  save  me,  save  me!"  cried  Leonie, 
as  the  train  into  which  they  had  borne  her  began  to  move 
on  again.  "Oh!  I  remember  all  the  horror  of  the  great 
engine  looming  above  me — and — " 

'*  And  you  were  saved — saved  by  the  wonderful  presence 
of  mind  of  the  engineer  of  this  train!"  said  the  old  lawyer, 
Mr.  Barrett,  seating  himself  beside  her;  "  and  we  found  a 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  9* 

card  in  your  pocket/*  he  went  on,  excitedly,  "  bearing  the- 
name  Leonie  Locke.     Is  that  your  name?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Leonie,  quietly,  wondering  at  the  breath 
less  interest  of  the  passengers,  who  crowded  around  her. 

"  And  was  your  father  named  Allan  Locke?"  ques 
tioned  the  lawyer. 

Leonie  bowed  in  the  affirmative,  clutching  her  little 
white  hands  nervously  together,  wondering  what  new  mis 
fortune  was  about  to  befall  her.  The  excitement  of  the 
old  gentleman  in  the  seat  beside  her  frightened  her  he  was- 
peering  at  her  so  curiously  over  the  rim  of  his  gold  eye 
glasses. 

"  You  are  the  daughter  of  Claire  and  Allan  Locke,  and 
your  grandfather  was  Morris  Locke?"  questioned  the 
lawyer. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Leonie,  timidly,  the  frightened 
wonder  deepening  in  her  dark  eyes. 

"  Where  are  you  going — where  do  you  live?"  he  asked, 
suddenly. 

Leonie's  fair  face  flushed  a  deep  burning  red  at  the  ap 
parent  impertinence  of  the  question;  the  old  gentleman 
quickly  noticed  her  embarrassment,  and  hastened  to  apolo^ 
gize. 

"  I  have  a  startling  disclosure  to  make  to  you,  my  dear 
young  lady,"  he  went  on — "  a  disclosure  that  would  turn 
the  head  of  almost  any  young  girl.  It  can  be  told  in  a 
very  few  words.  A  year  ago  your  grandfather,  Morris 
Locke,  died,  and  in  the  will  which  he  left  he  named  you, 
his  granddaughter,  Leonie  Locke,  sole  heir  to  his  estate, 
which  is  worth  a  million  of  dollars.  A.llow  me  to  be  the 
first  to  congratulate  you,  my  dear,  upon  the  great  good 
fortune  that  has  fallen  to  your  lot. " 

The  beautiful,  dark,  velvety  eyes  were  expanded  in  the- 
greatest  surprise,  and  all  the  color  had  faded  from  her 
face.  He  quite  believed  she  had  not  comprehended  what 
te  had  said,  and  he  rented: 


94  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

"  You  are  an  heiress,  Miss  Locke — neiress  to  a  million 
of  dollars  in  your  own  right,  which  I  am  to  hold  in  trust 
for  you  until  you  are  eighteen. " 

"Oh,  .sir,  do  you  really  believe  it?"  queried  Leonie, 
breathlessly.  "  Is  there  no  mistake?  Surely  there  must 
be!  Fate  has  been  so  unkind  to  me  all  my  life,  it  must  be 
playing  some  trick  upon  me  now." 

"  There  is  no  mistake, "  returned  the  lawyer.  "  In  our 
profession  we  do  not  deal  with  fate,  as  you  phrase  it;  it  is 
Our  business  to  get  down  to  facts;  and  it  is  settled  in  my 
mind  beyond  all  doubt  that  you  are  the  heiress  I  have 
been  in  search  of. " 

Leonie  sprung  to  her  feet,  trembling  with  emotion. 

"  I  can  scarcely  believe  that  I,  Leonie  Locke,  whom  the 
world  has  used  so  cruelly,  am  really  an  heiress,"  she  cried, 
pushing  the  dark,  curling  rings  of  hair  back  from  her  white 
forehead  in  a  bewildered  sort  of  way.  "  I  am  only  a 
working-girl  whom  nobody  cares  for/'  she  went  on, 
piteously.  "I  have  never  had  any  money;  lam  unused 
to  wealth  and  comfort;  my  life  has  been  hard  and  lonely, 
dreary  and  dull.  I  should  not  know  what  to  do  with  it." 

"  After  you  have  seen  a  little  more  of  the  world  you 
won't  say  that,  my  dear  child/'  laughed  the  lawyer,  up 
roariously.  "  Why,  women  know  how  to  make  money 
fairly  fly.  I  am  not  surprised  at  your  agitation;  perhaps 
no  young  lady  ever  had  more  cause;  but  you  must  bear 
prosperity  as  you  have  borne  adversity.  From  this  time 
out  your  whole  life  will  be  changed,  your  future  will  be 
brilliant,  for  with  wealth  and  beauty  combined,  life  is  full 
of  golden  promise. " 

A  dazzling  smile  parted  the  beautiful  crimson  lips,  and 
the  color  rushed  back  to  Leonie 's  face  in  a  sweeping  tide. 
In  her  great  excitement,  she  forgot  that  the  old  lawyer  was 
explaining  all  the  circumstances  to  her.  She  did  not  hear 
one  word  he  was  saying.  Leonie 's  thoughts  had  drifted 
back  to  Gordon  Carlisle,  and  her  heart  was  crying  out: 


E30X1E    LOCKE.  9ft 

"  Oh,  Gordon,  my  love — my  love!— with  wealth  and  my 
great  love,  perhaps  I  may  win  you  yet.  All  the  wealth  in 
the  whole  wide  world  would  be  valueless  to  me  if  I  were 
shut  out  from  your  heart." 

How  little  Leonie  dreamed  of  the  terrible  price  her  love 
for  Gordon  Carlisle  was  to  cost  her. 


CHAPTER  XV1IL 

THE  sudden  change  from  earning  her  own  living  to  the 
luxury  in  which  Leonie  found  herself  would  have  dazzled 
almost  any  young  girl  older  and  wiser  than  Leonie. 
She  wondered  how  she  had  ever  lived  through  that  cold 
dark  past,  that  held  but  one  gleam  of  sunshine  in  it — that 
supremely  happy  moment  when  Gordon  Carlisle  had 
clasped  her  in  his  arms  and  told  her  that  he  loved  her. 

In  that  one  moment,  with  her  head  resting  upon  'his 
shoulder,  she  was  a  thousand  times  happier  as  Leonie 
Locke,  the  dependent  little  working-girl,  than  she  was  now 
without  him,  though  surrounded  by  every  luxury  wealth 
could  command. 

Poor  little  hungry  heart,  she  would  have  bartered  every 
dollar  to  have  lived  over  again  tnat  sweet  short  hour. 

Gordon  was  her  first  love,  and  there  is  no  love  that  can 
ever  equal  the  first  sweet  love-dream  that  creeps  into  a 
young  girl's  heart. 

Like  the  maidens  of  whom  the  poet  sings  so  sweetly: 

"  They  never  know  they  have  a  heart 
Till  they  are  conscious  of  its  loss." 

'  "  What  would  Gordon  Carlisle  say  when  he  heard  of  it!*" 
Leonie  asked  herself;  "  and  his  lady  mother  who  had  saia 
her  handsome  son  could  never  love  a  working-girl.*" 

An  indignant  flush  crimsoned  Leonie 's  cheek  as  sna 
thought  of  it.. 

As  Leonie  had  no  relatives  to  nr.m«  and  live  witti  ae*  & 


96  LBOS1E    LOCKB. 

the  elegant  mansion  on  Lexington  Avenue  that  had  been 
prepared  for  the  young  heiress,  Mr.  Barrett,  the  lawyer, 
and  his  wife,  a  plump  little  society  lady,  took  up  their 
abode  with  h^r. 

Leonie  had  left  the  old  life  behind  her;  she  could  scarce 
ly  realize  that  the  radiant  little  figure  which  her  mirror  re 
flected,  robed  in  shimmering  silk,  in  whose  tiny  shell-like 
ears  and  on  whose  small  white  hands  costly  diamonds  glit 
tered  was  the  same  Leonie  Locke  who  had  toiled  so  hard 
for  her  daily  bread,  who  kne,w  all  the  horrors  compressed 
into  the  words,  "  Work  will  be  slack  this  week/'  and  the 
still  greater  horror  of  opening  her  slim  -envelope  when 
Saturday  night  came  around  and  finding  the  little  slip  of 
paper  in  it  that  meant  "  discharged." 

Now  all  the  world  was  changed  for  her;  she  was  courted, 
petted,  and  flattered.  But  she  never  quite  realized  the  full 
power  of  money  until  an  amusing  little  incident  happened 
to  her. 

Mrs.  Barrett  had  made  all  possible  haste  in  attending  to 
Leonie's  wardrobe. 

"  You  must  not  be  seen  in  that  blue  merino  dress  of 
yours,  my  dear;  the  neighbors  hereabouts  would  never  for 
get  it;  it  savors  too  much  of  the  workshop,  and  to  use  the 
expression  my  husband  often  uses,  more  comical  than 
polite,  it  quite  *  gives  you  away/  my  dear." 

So  the  neat-fitting  blue  merino  dress  and  the  jacket  and 
cloth  cap  were  quickly  discarded,  and  the  stylish,  pretty 
little  creature  in  her  costly  sealskin  and  jaunty  crimson 
plush  hat  and  drooping  plumes  who  sat  in  the  phaeton  be 
side  Mrs.  Barrett  as  they  drove  toward  Macy's  was  a  widety 
different  appearing  personage  from  the  timid  little  Leonie 
whom  we  first  introduced  to  our  readers;  but  all  the  ele 
gance  of  her  apparel  could  not  add  to  the  .beauty  of  the 
sweet  young  face  framed  in  those  babyish  rings  of  soft 
brown  hair,  or  add  one  luster  to  those  dark  wondrous  eyes 
fringed  by  their  lone  lashes,  or  to  the  charm  of  those  rose- 


LEQVIE    LOCKE.  9? 

bod  lips  curved  like  a  Cupid's  bow,  over  whose  smiles  men 
were  to  contest  so  bitterly. 

"  I  am  proud  of  you,  Leonie,"  said  Mrs.  Barrett,  com 
placently.  "  Your  beauty  will  create  quite  a  commotion 
in  society;  you  will  turn  the  heads  of  all  the  marriageable 
young  fellows.  Young  girls  of  your  age  generally  have 
some  ideal  hero  pictured  in  their  minds.  But  when  you' 
Prince  Charming  comes  along,  you  must  not  be  in  a  hurry 
to  marry.  A  year  or  so  will  be  plenty  of  time  for  that. " 

"  I  shall  never  marry,"  said  Leonie,  paling  to  the  very 
lips,  and  a  look  of  keen  distress  in  her  deep,  dark  eyesr 
"  Please  never  mention  marriage  to  me.  I  shall  never 
marry/* 

"  No  one  but  old  maids,  whom  nobody  wants,  or  some 
creature  who  has  been  crossed  in  love,  ever  make  such  a 
remark  as  that.  It  sounds  ridiculous  on  the  lips  of  a  pretty 
girl.  You  can  not  rule  your  own  heart,  my  dear.  Love 
goes  where  Heaven  intended  it  should  go,  and  when  the 
right  one  comes  along  you  will  say  to  yourself,  1  can  never 
be  happy  without  him,  and  then  it  will  end  just  as  it 
should — in  a  marriage. ' ' 

Before  Leonie  could  frame  a  reply  the  phaeton  drew  up 
before  Macy's,  and  Mrs.  Barrett  and  Leonie  alighted  just 
as  a  gentleman,  whom  Mrs.  Barrett  evidently  knew,  was 
passing. 

One  glance  at  his  face,  and  in  an  instant  all  Leonie's 
self-possession  had  vanished.  She  recognized  him  instantly 
as  the  proprietor  o^  *he  factory  in  which  Emma  Williams 
worked,  and  as  the  bcern,  haughty  man  who  had  said  "  he 
would  not  have  her  in  his  employ  an  hour  longer  unless  she 
could  prove  beyond  a  doubt  she  had  not  been  seen  at  mid 
night,  when  her  father  lay  dying,  where  no  respectable 
young  girl  would  have  been. " 

"  Would  he  recognize  her?"  Leonie  asked  herself,  "  and 
would  that  horrible  story,  that  Jay  in  the  dark  past,  leak 
oat  and  blast  the  bjilliftnf  nrosDecte  el  her  future?" 


98  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

A  deathly  faintness  stole  over  Leonie  as  Mrs.  Barrett 
went  through  the  formula  of  introducing  them.  Then  she 
raised  her  eyes  to  his,  expecting  to  read  surprise  and  even 
contempt  in  them  as  he  recognized  in  her  the  poor  little 
working-girl  whom  he  had  turned  from  his  door  that 
stormy  December  night.  She  was  prepared  to  see  him 
(urn  to  Mrs.  Barrett  with  that  cruel  story  on  his  lips. 

A  moment  of  silence  ensued,  and  then  Leonie  raised  her 
fjes  to  his;  but  in  them,  much  to  her  intense  astonish- 
ident,  she  read  only  undisguised  admiration  and  profound 
respect. 

"  He  did  not  recognize  me/'  she  thought,  catching  her 
breath  quickly.  "  Thank  Heaven  for  that!" 

Leonie  turned  hurriedlv  toward  the  entrance,  while  Mrs. 
Barrett  ana  Mr.  Alcot  followed  more  leisurely,  and  every 
word  of  their  conversation  reached  Leonie's  ears. 

"  What  a  beautiful  ^«?ng  girl,"  Mr.  Alcot  was  saying, 
"  I  iave  never  seen  ts  i*ce  thaf-  attracted  me  so  at  first 
fight.  I  shall  be  only  too  pleasea  to  d^ail  myself  of  your 
kind  permission  to  call  upon  you  •*£)  «n  early  date,  with  the 
hope  1  may  also  be  permitted  to  see  Miss  Loc&e:  and  bow 
ing  profoundly  to  the  two  ladies,  and  with  a  lingering 
glance  at  Leonie,  Mr.  Alcot  left  them  at  the  entrance  door 

"  My  face  attracted  him  at  first  sight/'  thought  Leonie, 
»fith  a  bitter  smile.  "  How  little  he  knows  under  what 
circumstances  we  have  met  before !  What  a  difference  clotho* 
can  make  in  one's  appearance!  He  admires  the  heiress  \- 
her  silks  and  jewels,  while  he  despises  the  poor  little  work 
ing-girl  who  was  dependent  upon  him  for  work." 

She  was  just  beginning  to  learn  the  power  of  sordid  gold. 

"  All  this  is  because  I  have  money,"  she  thought,  with 
bitter  contempt.  "  If  wealth  had  only  come  to  me  sooner, 
I  might  have  won  Gordon  Carlisle.  He  could  speak  to  the 
poor  little  working-girl  of  love;  but  when  it  came  to  mar 
riage,  that  was  quite  another  question ;  he  must  marry  one 
m  his  own  circle— nne  whose  wealth  w*g  equal  to  his  own." 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  9ft 

That  night  Lawyer  Barrett  and  his  wife  held  quite  a 
lengthy  debate  in  their  own  apartments  in  reference  to 
Leonie,  and,  as  usual,  the  determined  little  lady  carried 
the  point. 

"  Leonie  is  all  that  is  pretty,  that  I  grant;  but  she  lacka 
the  grace  and  culture  that  fit  one  for  society/'  declared 
Mrs.  Barrett,  energetically,  "  and  it  nust  be  attended  to 
without  delay;  we  must  engage  competent  persons  to 
remedy  this  defect  at  once — a  professor  for  the  languages, 
and  one  for  music. " 

And  so  they  settled  it;  and  their  decision  changed  the 
current  of  two  lives.  The  next  day,  in  answer  to  an 
advertisement  which  appeared  in  the  "  Herald/'*  a  young 
man  called  and  was  shown  at  once  into  Lawyer  Barrett's 
library. 

Mr.  Barrett  glanced  at  the  card,  which  bore  the  name 
"  Paul  Rexford/'  and  placed  a  chair  for  his  visitor. 

"  In  answer  to  the  advertisement? — ah,  yes;  be  seated, 
please/'  exclaimed  Mr.  Barrett,  examining  his  visitor  with 
his  keen,  critical  eyes,  and  forming  an  opinion  of  him  at 
first  glance. 

Mr.  Eexford  bowed  with  a  haughty  grace,  taking  the 
proffered  seat.  Although  Mr.  Barrett,  the  sharp  little 
lawyer,  had  always  prided  himself  upon  being  able  to  read 
character  in  faces,  this  time  he  owned  to  himself  he  was  a 
little  puzzled  in  regard  to  the  young  man  before  him. 

The  low,  modulated  voice  and  graceful  bearing  of  Mr. 
Eexford  proclaimed  him  to  be  a  gentleman.  Yet,  Mr. 
Barrett  would  have  been  better  satisfied  if  he  could  have 
seen  more  of  his  face. 

His  hair  was  intensely  dark  and  abundant,  drooping  ovei 
his  forehead  in  clustering  waves  in  a  way  that  concealed 
the  greater  portion  of  it,  and  the  heavy  mustache  seemed 
to  perform  the  same  service  for  the  lower  portion  of  hia 
face;  a  pair  of  dark-blue  double  glasses  concealed  the 
bright,  restless  eyes,  and  the  lawyer  could  not  determine 


100  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

whether  they  were  black  or  blue,  but  judging  from  hfe 
dark  hair  and  mustache,  thought  them  to  be  dark. 

At  length  the  young  professor's  services  were  engaged, 
a  fact  which  the  old  lawyer  had  cause  to  regret  to  the  last 
day  of  his  life. 

"  Your  pupil  is  not  acquainted  with  even  the  rudiments 
of  music,"  said  Mr.  Barrett,  in  conclusion.  "  Her  history 
is  a  peculiar  one:  her  wealth  has  been  but  recently  ac 
quired,  and  up  to  the  present  time  her  education  in  the 
higher  branches  has  been,  of  a  consequence,  neglected. 
She  is  graceful,  as  a  wild  flower  is  graceful,  but  she  is  not 
fitted  for  society.  You  understand  the  case,  I  hope?" 

Young  Mr.  Eexford  bowed,  and  the  lawyer  went  on: 

"  We  shall  require  your  services  three  days  of  the  week, 
Mr.  Rexford,  and  you  can  name  your  own  compensation/' 

"  When  do  you  wish  the  young  lady's  studies  to  com' 
mence?"  asked  the  young  professor,  rising  to  depart. 

"  I  must  consult  Leonie  in  regard  to  that/'  replied  Mr. 
Barrett 

"  1  beg  your  pardon;  did  you  call  the  young  girl 
Leonie?"  asked  the  professor,  hoarsely. 

**  Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Barrett,  wonderingly.  "  Her  nanw 
is  Leonie  Locke — a  pretty  name,  which  suits  her  exactly^- 
Why,  good  heavens,  Mr.  Rexford,  are  you  ill?"  he  cried  hi 
alarm  as  the  young  man  sunk  back  upon  his  seat,  hoarsely 
repeating  the  name,  "  Leonie  Locke." 

By  a  great  effort  he  controlled  his  emotion,  answering 
calmly: 

*4  It  was  but  a  momentary  illness.  I  regret  exceedingly 
the  alarm  I  have  caused  you.  I  was  startled  by  an  old 
memory. " 

Thus  assured,  Mr.  Barrett  felt  relieved,  and  immediately 
touched  the  bell-rope,  summoning  Leonie,  who  appeared  a 
moment  after. 

She  was  a  beautiful  vision  of  girlhood  in  the  pale-blue 
nun's- veiling  dress,  which  set  o£E  jtha  fair  loveliness  of  hei 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  101 

dainty  bean*  90  perfectly,  her  dark,  starry,  sparkling  eyea 
outrivaling  the  gems  that  twinkled  in  her  tiny  ears. 

No  wonder  the  young  professor  gazed  at  her  from  behind 
his  blue  glasses,  his  whole  soul  in  his  eyes,  his  face  paling 
strangely. 

"Fool!  mad  fool  that  I  was  to  come  ncre!"  ho  mut 
tered.  "  Fate  seems  to  conspire  against  i^c." 

Leonie  acknowledged  the  introduction  to  the  tall,  grave 
young  professor  in  her  timid  fashion,  mentally  wondering 
where  she  had  seen  just  such  a  person  before. 

There  was  something  strangely  familiar  in  the  white, 
aristocratic  hand  lying  carelessly  against  the  marble  mantel, 
and  in  the  haughty  bow  with  which  he  stepped  forward 
when  she  was  presented  to  him,  and  his  low,  winning* 
melodions  voice  strengthened  the  belief  that  she  had  seen 
«ome  one  strangely  like  this  handsome  young  professor  be 
fore,  and  she  asked  herself,  wonderingly,  where  it  could 
have  been. 

Then  like  a  sudden  flash  it  occurred  to  her  why  she  was 
eo  strangely  attracted  toward  this  stranger — there  was 
something  about  him  that  reminded  her  of  Gordon  Car 
lisle.  Yes,  although  this  young  man  was  dark  almost  to 
swarthiness,  he  reminded  Leonie  strangely  of  Gordon 
Carlisle,  who  had  the  fair,  golden  beauty  of  King  Olaf. 

"I  know  I  shall  like  him,"  she  thought,  "for  that 
reason,  if  for  no  other. " 

And  she  looked  forward  to  the  morrow,  which  would 
bring  the  mysterious  stranger,  with  a  flutter  at  her  heart 
which  puzzled  her  to  account  for,  and  on  the  morrow  the 
first  link  in  the  chain  of  fate  would  be  forged,  and  it 
would  slowly  coil  around  her,  and  there  would  be  no  escape. 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

THREE  weeks  had  passed  since  the  young  professor  piid 
bis  first  visit  to  ih.3  Lexineton  -Arenue  mansion — three 


102  LEONIE    LOCK!. 

weeks  which  were  to  have  such  a  thrilling  acqueL  Leonii 
was  an  apt  pupil,  and  progressed  wonderfully  with  her 
studies,  and  quite  unconsciously  she  began  to  look  forward 
to  her  '*  lesson  days  "  as  the  brightest  moments  in  her  life. 
He  was  young  and  fascinating — it  might  have  been  ex 
pected. 

The  grave  young  professor  seemed  to  possess  some  magic 
inlaence  over  Jier.  If  his  hand  touched  hers  on  the  page, 
she  would  tremble,  and  her  heart  would  beat  so  loudly  she 
was  sure  he  must  hear  it.  Every  action  reminded  her  so 
constantly  of  Gordon  Carlisle,  and  she  found  herself  wish 
ing  more  than  once  "  that  he  would  take  off  those  horrible 
blue  glasses  that  disfigured  his  face  so,  that  she  might  see 
just  what  color  his  eyes  were."  She  half  fancied  they 
might  be  blue,  like  Gordon's. 

There  was  one  incentive  above  all  others  that  urged 
Leonie  on  in  her  desire  to  fit  herself  for  the  social  world 
that  lay  before  her — she  would  be  sure  to  meet  Gordon 
Carlisle  there;  that  was  the  beginning  and  the  end,  the 
goal  of  her  ambition. 

She  told  herself  she  must  see  him  just  once,  then  she 
would  be  willing  to  shut  herself  away  from  the  world  for 
ever  after  that  one  hour  of  triumph. 

No  timid  young  girl  likes  to  discuss  those  vague,  sweet 
heart  thoughts  of  love  or  lovers  to  a  matter-of-fact  old 
lady,  and  Leonie  shrunk  from  even  mentioning  that  piti 
ful,  broken  love-dream  to  practical  Mrs.  Barrett.  Nothing 
can  touch  the  heart  of  youth  so  deeply  or  so  cruelly  as  to 
be  ridiculed  about  their  love  affairs. 

It  was  quite  natural,  with  no  companion  to  whom  she 
could  turn  for  sympathy,  that  Leonie  should  turn  to  the 
young  professor,  making  quite  a  confidant  of  him.  But 
there  was  one  subject  she  carefully  avoided,  and  that  was 
all  reference  to  Gordon;  and  it  was  quite  evident  young 
Mr.  Rexford  encouraged  these  impulsive  outbursts  of  con 
fidence  that  sprung  so  thougrhtles&ly  to  Leonie's  lips. 


LEONIE    LOCK1.  103 

Receptions,  parties,  balls  followed  each  other  in  rapid 
succession,  and  pretty  Leonie  was  queen  of  them  all;  yet 
she  always  came  home  with  the  same  piteous  pain  in  her 
lovely  childish  eyes.  It  had  been  another  evening  lost  out 
of  her  life,  for  she  had  not  met  Gordon  Carlisle. 

One  evening  Leonie  stood  before  the  fire  in  the  library 
with  a  puzzled  gleam  in  her  eyes,  reading  for  the  twentieth 
time  a  little  note  which  she  had  drawn  from  the  pocket  of 
her  dress — a  note  which  had  been  hidden  deep  in  the  heart 
of  a  rare  bouquet  of  crimson  passion-roses  which  the  servant 
had  brought  her  that  afternoon,  and  read  as  follows: 

"  There  is  to  be  a  masquerade  ball  at to-night,  at 

eight  o'clock  sharp.  May  I  beg  you  will  kindly  accept  the 
ticket  inclosed,  and  grant  the  prayer  of  an  adoring  un 
known  admirer  by  being  present?  Wear  the  red  roses 
clasped  above  your  heart  with  a  diamond  star,  that  I  may 
know  you.  Although  my  request  is  romantic  in  the  ex 
treme,  1  can  only  hope  you  will  grant  it  and  let  no  one 
know.  Yours  ever, 

"  INCOGNITO/' 

The  word  romantic  had  settled  the  question  in  Leonie's 
mind.  She  was  only  an  impulsive  young  girl,  and  young 
girls  never  settle  anything  which  borders  on  romance  as 
the  cautious  and  worldly  wise  are  apt  to  do. 

The  fire  in  her  eyes  deepened  until  they  glowed  like 
stars. 

"  Mrs,  Barrett  would  be  sure  to  forbid  my  going  if  she 
only  knew,"  thought  Leonie,  twisting  the  crumpled  bit  of 
paper  around  on  her  jeweled  fingers  hesitatingly,  "  and  I 
don't  think  there  will  be  any  harm  in  going — just  to  find 
out  who  it  is  who  adores  me  so  much." 

A  clever  ruse  had  occurred  to  Leonie.  She  could  take 
Aimee,  her  French  maid.  Aimee  should  wear  the  roses, 
and  Leonie  would  not  tell  her  what  significance  they  bore, 
and  she  could  watci.  4gi*  this  unknown. adorer  who  would  b« 


10ft  UBONIE    LOCKE. 

sure  to  single  out  the  wearer  of  the  crimson  roees. 

could  leave  before  it  was  time  to  unmask,  and  no  one 

would  ever  be  the  wiser. 

"  I  wish  Professor  Eexford  had  come  to-day,"  she 
sighed.  "  I  would  have  shown  it  to  him,  and  told  him  I 
was  going  to  keep  the  appointment  How  shocked  he 
would  have  been.  Perhaps  it  is  just  as  well  that  he  does 
not  know  it. " 

She  laughed  a  little  jolly  laugh  that  sounded  like  the 
rippling  murmur  of  a  mountain  brook. 

She  was  all  dressed  for  the  ball.  Mr.  Barrett  and  his 
wife  had  gone  to  a  reception,  and  Leonie,  pleading  fatigue, 
had  been  left  behind.  The  clock  on  the  mantel  pointed  to 
a  half  after  seven,  and  as  there  was  plenty  of  time  to 
spare,  Leonie  sat  down  in  one  of  the  cushioned  chairs  be 
fore  the  fire  waiting  for  Aimee. 

Five,  ten  minutes  passed,  then  some  one  turned  the  knob 
of  the  door  and  entered.  It  was  Professor  Eexford,  who 
had  come  in  person  to  apologize  for  not  being  able  to  give 
Leonie  her  lesson  that  day. 

He  hesitated  an  instant  in  the  door-way  as  he  saw  the 
slender  figure  in  her  glittering  golden  robe  before  the  red 
glow  of  the  fire,  and  he  saw  at  once  by  the  closed  eyes  and 
regular  breathing  that  she  slept.  Her  glittering  robe 
trailed  over  the  crimson  carpet,  and  around  her  white 
throat  and  pretty  plump  arms  diamonds  glowed  like  a  vein 
of  fire.  She  looked  so  brilliant,  so  beautiful  in  the  midst 
of  the  crimson  gleam,  that  he  stopped  abruptly,  bushing 
the  cry  of  admiration  that  sprung  to  his  lips. 

Near  the  tiny  feet,  incased  in  rose-colored  slippers,  rest 
ing  on  the  polished  fender,  was  the  ticket  or  admission 
lying  on  the  floor  where  it  had  slipped  from  her  hands. 

Paul  Eexford  stooped  and  picked  up  the  card,  and  as  he 
did  so  the  blue  glasses  he  was  always  careful  to  wear  fell 
from  his  face. 

"  Can  she  be  going  there*"  he  muttered,  in  breathless 


jLEONIE    LOCKE.  10S 

astonishment,  noting  the  street  and  number  that  it  bore. 
•'  Good  Heaven,  I  can  not  understand  it,  I — " 

He  did  not  finish  the  rest  of  the  sentence  aloud,  his  brain 
seemed  in  a  whirl  as  he  glanced  back  again  from  the  card 
to  the  beautiful  unconscious  sleeper. 

"  Why  should  I  go  just  yet?"  he  asked  himself,  with 
his  whole  heart  in  his  longing  gaze. 

It  seemed  quite  a  mockery  to  cover  such  brilliant  eyes  as 
Paul  Rexford  possessed  witn  such  disguising  blue  glasses 
that  hid  so  much  of  his  handsome  face. 

He  had  prided  himself  on  his  wisdom  and  the  manner  in 
which  he  could  control  the  mad  love  that  had  sprung  up  in. 
his  heart  for  beautiful  Leonie  Locke.  He  laughed  bitterly 
at  the  cruel  irony  of  fate  that  caused  him,  an  humble  tutor, 
to  fall  in  love  with  a  bewitching  heiress. 

He  might  just  as  well  wish  for  one  of  the  stars  up  iix 
heaven;  he  would  cure  himself  of  his  mad  presumption,  ha 
vowed  to  do  it.  A  mad  impulse  seized  him  to  kiss  thoua 
beautiful  white  arms,  to  kneel  at  her  feet  and  worship  her, 
but  he  drew  back  in  sudden  fear. 

"  You  love  wealth  and  position,5'  he  thought,  "love 
would  be  as  nothing  without  wealth  to  you/' 

He  folded  his  arms  across  his  broad  chest  and  watched 
her,  the  brooding  pain  growing  deeper  in  his  brilliant,  rest 
less  eyes. 

Paul  Rexford  was  young.  At  two-and-twenty  we  are  all 
more  or  less  impulsive;  it  is  given  to  youth  to  be  so.  He 
had  thrown  prudence  to  the  wind  in  the  mad  reckless  im 
pulse  of  the  moment. 

He  went  softly  around  behind  her  chair,  leaned  over  and 
pressed  his  lips  to  hers  in  a  kiss  light  as  a  zephyr,  and  at 
the  same  instant  taking  his  penknife  from  his  pocket  and 
severing  one  of  the  soft  brown  love-locks  that  curled  over 
her  forehead. 

'*  It  will  be  found.  eg^mY  heart  .when  I  die,  my  darling, " 


106  LEONIE    LOCKS. 

he  murmured,  hoarsely;  "  and  the  memory  of  this  stolen? 
caress  I  shall  never  forget. " 

Leonie  stirred  in  her  sleep,  and  with  a  guilty  thrill  in  his 
heart  Paul  Kexf  ord  retreated  softly  toward  the  door,  thank 
ful  that  the  dense  shadows  obscured  him;  he  had  not  been 
discovered. 

Leonie  started  up  from  her  chair  with  a  little  gasping 
cry. 

"  Even  in  sleep  my  heart  turns  to  Gordon  Carlisle,"  she 
sighed,  piteously.  <fc  I  have  wealth,  beauty,  the  whole 
world  at  my  feet;  yet  with  all  1  am  poor,  because  I  have 
missed  Gordon's  love.  Ah,  Heaven,  if  dreams  were  bafe 
realities — I  thought  he  stooped  over  me  and  kissed  me;  and 
why,  what  is  this?"  she  cried,  as  her  hand  struck  the  sharp 
edge  of  something  lying  in  her  lap;  "  why,  it  is  a  piece  of 
broken  blue  glass,  a  piece  of  Mr.  Kexf  ord 's  eyeglasses. 
But  how  came  it  in  my  lap?"  she  mused,  then  she  laughed 
a  little  low  careless  laugh  as  she  placed  it  upon  the  mantel, 
"  How  silly  I  am/'  she  thought;  "  this  is  the  chair  the 
professor  usually  takes,  and  it  dropped  down  among  the 
cushions. " 

A  half  hour  later,  with  a  long  dark  cloak  entirely  con 
cealing  her  dazzling  golden  robe,  Leonie  entered  a  close 
carriage  in  which  Aimee,  her  maid,  was  already  seated, 
and  the  next  instant  they  were  whirling  rapidly  away. 

And  at  the  same  moment  a  young  man  standing  on  the 
pavement  opposite  the  house,  hailed  a  passing  coupe. 

"  Keep  that  close  carriage  ahead  in  sight,"  he  said, 
liberally  feeing  the  driver. 

The  light  from  a  neighboring  gas-lamp  fell  full  upon  his 
face,  revealing  the  handsome,  pale,  anxious  face  of  the 
young  professor,  unobstructed  by  the  heavy  double  blue 
glasses  which  he  had  thrust  hurriedly  into  his  pocket. 

"  I  shall  be  there  to  watch  over  you,  my  fair  queen/' 
he  murmured;  4<  for  something  tells  me  I  shall  be  needed/' 

Attending  this  masked  ball  x^a  certainly  obnoxious  to  the 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  107 

jrefined  young  man,  and  he  could  not  understand  why 
Leonie  had  gone  there;  yet,  young  girls  had  often  been 
known  to  do  just  such  things.  Leonie  was  little  more  than 
a  child  after  all. 

It  was  only  a  girl's  thoughtless  prank,  yet  he  meant  to 
follow  and  watch  over  her  from  a  distance.  How  little  he 
knew  his  prophetic  words  would  come  true — he  would  in 
deed  be  needed. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

IN  the  midst  of  a  large  and  brilliant  throng  of  maskers 
that  had  assembled  in  the  grand  parlors  of  a  brown-stone 
mansion  in  the  heart  of  the  city  stood  a  plumed  knight, 
impatiently  watching  the  entrance  door  with  keen  ex 
pectancy  in  his  glittering  black  eyes  that  his  tawny  mask 
could  scarcely  conceal.  Suddenly  a  murmur  of  admiration 
ran  from  lip  to  lip  as  the  eyes  of  the  brilliant  throng  were 
turned  toward  the  figure  of  a  young  girl  in  a  robe  of  daz 
zling,  trailing  gold,  who  stood  shrinkingly  in  the  door-way, 
pleading  with  a  piquant,  dashing  peasant,  who  wore  a 
cluster  of  crimson  roses  on  her  breast,  clasped  with  a  glit 
tering  star,  "  to  turn  back  and  go  home/' 

For,  from  the  moment  Leonie  had  crossed  the  threshold, 
she  had  regretted  her  heedless  folly. 

"  Let  us  turn  back,  Aimee,"  she  said. 

"  That  is  not  so  easily  done/'  replied  the  French  girl, 
angry  at  the  thought  of  having  her  evening's  enjoyment 
so  ruthlessly  spoiled. 

"I  must  get  away,"  cried  Leonie,  faintly,  struggling 
through  the  throng  toward  the  door. 

The  plumed  knight  at  that  instant  reached  her  side,  just 
in  time  to  hear  the  terrified  remark. 

* '  No  one  can  leave  before  twelve  to-night,  miss, ''  he 
said,  eying  them  searchingly;  "  at  that  hour,  all  unmask; 
after  that,  any  one  caajaave  who  so  desires;  but  up  to  thai 


108  LEONIB    LOCKE. 

time,  the  doors  are  locked  against  you.  Make  the  best  ol 
it,  ladies.  Allow  me  to  escort  you  to  seats. " 

Almost  fainting  with  fear,  Leonie  made  no  resistance; 
while  Aimee,  who  was  in  her  glory,  bowed  with  elaborate 
politeness. 

"  Excuse  my  impertinence,"  said  the  knight,  glancing 
keenly  from  one  to  the  other;  "  did  you  two  come  here  to 
gether?" — turning  toward  the  wearer  of  the  crimson  roses. 

Aimee  simpered,  coquettishly. 

"  Yes,  we  both  came  together,"  she  answered. 

That  one  word,  "  together,"  had  settled  some  unspoken 
thought  in  the  mind  of  the  plumed  knight.  She  had 
spoken  in  a  low,  murmuring  voice,  but  his  quick  ears  had 
detected  the  never-to-be-mistaken  roll  of  the  French  "r," 
which  the  people  of  no  other  nation  can  imitate. 

He  could  have  torn  the  red  roses  from  her  breast,  and 
trampled  them  under  his  feet  in  his  hot  rage;  for  it  was 
plainly  evident  to  him  that  some  trick  had  been  played 
upon  him.  She  was  not  Leonie  Locke,  to  whom  he  had 
sent  those  roses.  Then  something  like  the  truth  flashed 
across  his  active  brain. 

"  This  other  one  must  be  Leonie  Locke;  she  has  decked 
out  her  maid  in  my  flowers  to  deceive  me!" 

The  more  he  looked  at  the  little  figure  in  trailing  gold 
with  the  gauzy,  golden  veil  twined  in  heavy  folds  over  head 
and  face,  the  more  he  became  convinced  of  her  identity. 

Hastily  finding  a  partner  for  the  wearer  of  the  red  roses, 
and  thus  ridding  himself  of  her  presence,  he  coolly  seated 
himself  beside  Leonie. 

'*  The  next  is  a  waltz.  Will  you  kindly  favor  me  by  al 
lowing  me  to  put  down  my  name  for  it?  I  designate  my 
self  as— the  Knight  of  the  Scarlet  Plume." 

"No,"  replied  Leonie,  faintly;  "  I  shall  not  dance." 

At  that  moment,  the  music  struck  up  witk  a  bewildering 
crash.  The  maskers  sprung  to  their  feet,  and,  in  an  in 
stant,  the  soene  tva13  ot>*»  «f  Hitter::::?  splendor — kings  and 


peasants,  nuns  and  harlequins,  fairies  and  knights  whirling 
around  in  glittering  splendor  beneath  the  glowing  lights  of 
the  chandeliers. 

And,  almost  fainting  from  excitement,  Leonie  would 
have  sprung  from  her  seat  and  made  her  way  to  the  dress- 
mg-room,  but  it  seemed  that  the  knight  had  divined  her 
intentions;  for,  in  an  instant,  before  she  could  even  remon 
strate,  he  had  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  and,  panting  and 
struggling,  he  whirled  her  down  the  length  of  the  room  to 
the  mad  music  of  the  waltz.  f 

"  How  dare  you?  Let  me  go!"  cried  Leonie,  struggling 
fiercely. 

But  the  sound  of  her  voice  was  lost  in  the  crash  of  the 
music  and  the  laughter  of  the  revelers.  She  was  powerless 
to  move,  the  bold  knight  held  her  in  such  a  vise-like  clasp. 

They  had  circled  the  room,  and,  as  they  reached  an 
arched  door-way,  the  knight  whirled  Leonie  through  ifc, 
and  she  found  herself  standing,  flushed  and  out  of  breath, 
in  a  conservatory;  while  the  impertinent  knight  stood 
humbly  before  her,  craving  a  thousand  pardons  for  what 
he  had  done. 

"  I  shall  never  forgive  you  for  this — never!"  cried  Leo 
nie.  "  You  are  no  gentleman!  Step  aside,  sir,  and  allow 
me  to  pass!" 

"  It  was  my  revenge  upon  you  for  allowing  some  one 
else  to  wear  the  roses  I  intended  for  you,"  he  said,  quietly. 
"  You  see,  I  know  you;  you  are  Leonie  Locke,  whom  I 
came  here  to-night  expressly  to  see.  You  will  not  be  angry 
with  me  when  I  explain  why. " 

As  he  spoke,  although  his  roice  was  disguised,  the 
thought  flashed  across  Leonie's  mind  that  this  knight  was 
not  altogether  a  stranger  to  her. 

"  You  will  wonder  why  I  asked  you  to  come  here  to 
night,"  he  went  on,  in  the  same  disguised  tone;  "  and  1 
will  explain,  if  you  will  ke  so  ki*4  as  to  sit  down  on  the 


HOLME  BOOK  co., 

333  S    M.I.  ex     i 


110  LEOSIE    LOCKE. 

seat  I  placed  for  you,  and  give  me  your  attention  for  five 
minutes  only." 

Scarcely  realizing  what  she  did,  Leonie  obeyed,  a  strange} 
nervous  sense  of  fear  creeping  over  her. 

"  This  is  my  home,  and  these  are  my  guests,"  he  said, 
waving  his  hand  toward  the  glittering  ball-room.  "  The 
company  is  very  exclusive — each  one  a  millionaire — and  J 
have  invited  each  one  for  a  special  reason,  or,  rather,  a 
benevolent  reason.  A  week  ago,  a  building  which  was  be 
ing  erected  fell  and  entombed  a  number  of  workmen,  who 
were  removed  from  the  debris  dead;  their  families  are  in 
want,  and  their  helpless  little  children  crying  for  bread; 
and  1  have  gathered  my  friends  here  to-night  to  raise  a 
subscription  for  them.  Over  half  have  already  signed  the 
paper.  You  are  rich,  and  generous  as  you  are  beautiful, 
Miss  Locke,  and  I  trust  you,  too,  will  add  your  name  to 
the  list." 

In  a  moment  Leonie 's  tender  heart,  which  had  been  ap 
pealed  to,  was  reached.  She  forgot  her  auger  for  this  bold 
knight  in  the  sympathy  she  felt  for  the  homeless  oneg 
whose  sorrows  he  depicted.  She  was  only  a  young  girl  of 
seventeen — and  at  seventeen  we  are  not  very  wise  in  the 
ways  of  the  world.  It  never  occurred  to  Leonie  that  the 
stranger  had  deliberately  uttered  a  clever  falsehood  to 
secure  her  signature  to  the  paper  he  carried  in  his  breast- 
pocket.  He  had  laid  his  plan  carefully,  and  had  rehearsed 
his  part  many  a  time  in  secret,  with  a  diabolical  smile  on 
his  lips,  thinking  what  the  future  held  in  store  for  him  if 
he  could  get  Leonie  Locke's  signature  to  the  fatal  paper  he 
had  in  his  pocket. 

"  "Will  you  sign  for  whatever  amount  you  think  best?" 
he  asked,  producing  several  sheets  of  paper  pinned  together 
from  his  pocket;  "  and  then  you  may  leave  the  house  if 
you  wish.  Remember  1  do  not  wish  to  insist  upon  your 
generosity  in  relieving  those  sufferers  unless  your  own  heart 
prompts  the 


LJSUM US     1/UUAJC.  XXI 

"  Certainly,  1  will  help  those  poor,  helpless  people," 
oried  Leonie,  with  all  a  young  girl's  thoughtless  impulse. 
"  Where  is  the  paper,  sir?  I  will  put  down  my  name  for 
one  hundred  dollars,  I  am  very  sorry  I  haven't  the  money 
»rith  me;  I  would  so  gladly  give  it  to-night  for  those  poor 
widows  and  their  little  fatherless  children." 

The  knight  took  what  appeared  to  be  a  blank  sheet  from 
his  pocket,  and  also  a  pocket  ink-case  and  pen.  In  her 
excitement,  this  did  not  appear  strange  to  Leonie;  but  in 
after  years,  when  she  was  older  and  wiser,  and  looked  back 
at  the  awful  horror  of  that  moment,  when  she  held  her 
own  fate  in  her  hands,  and  put  love  and  happiness  away 
from  her  by  one  fatal  dash  of  the  pen — the  memory  of  thai 
hour  was  more  bitter  to  her  than  death. 

About  midway  on  the  page  was  a  slight  black  cross  in 
pencil  mark. 

"  Sign  there,  please/'  he  said;  "  just  your  name  only, 
never  mind  putting  the  amount  opposite  it,  for  it  is  un» 
necessary/' 

Little  dreaming  of  the  fatal  consequence  which  was  to 
ensue,  Leonie  took  the  pen  and  wrote  her  name. 

Heaven  help  her!  As  innocent  as  a  babe  of  what  she 
had  done,  she  had  signed  her  own  death-warrant! 

And  as  she  handed  it  back  to  him,  the  most  diabolical 
laugh  that  ever  broke  from  a  man's  lips  echoed  through 
the  conservatory. 

"  Many  thanks,  my  beautiful  Leonie!"  he  cried,  tearing 
the  mask  from  his  face  as  he  spoke.  "  I  have  outwitted 
you  this  time,  my  scornful  beauty!"  and  gazing  up  into  the 
mocking  face  above  her,  Leonie  uttered  a  sharp  cry  of  hor 
ror,  while  her  white  lips  murmured  hoarsely: 

"  Oh,  Father  in  heaven!  it  is  Charles  Hart,  my  mortal 
foe!" 

"Make  no  outcry!"  he  muttered,  threateningly;  "if 
you  do,  I  will  be  comoclied  tcv— '* 


"  To  murder  me!"  gtsped  L&ome,  reading  the  terrible 
truth  in  his  eyes. 

"  Exactly/'  he  replied;  "  you  have  destroyed  all  my  love 
for  you,  girl,  and  now  I  live  only  for  revenge;  for  it  is  true, 
'  Revenge  is  a  thousand  times  more  sweet  than  love!' 
Look,  what  you  have  signed  !"  he  cried,  holding  the  paper 
ever  the  heat  of  the  gas-jet;  and  immediately  the  white 
ink  upon  the  paper,  which  had  been  chemically  prepared, 
turned  black,  and,  with  the  intense  horror  and  f  aintness  of 
death  stealing  over  her,  Leonie  read  the  words  which  were 
written  on  the  paper  she  had  signed,  which  were  as  follows: 

"  I  hereby  enter  into  a  marriage  contract,  on  this  date, 
with  Charles  Hart.  "We  have  further  agreed  to  consider 
this  agreement  binding;  that  we  shall  be  known  henceforth 
as  man  and  wife,  to  keep  and  to  hold,  for  better  or  for 
wcrse,  until  death  do  us  part. 

"  (Signed)  CHARLES  HART. 

LOCKE." 


The  paper  bore  the  date  of  the  night  Leonie's  father  had 
died  —  the  night  she  had  been  decoyed  from  her  home  by 
this  relentless  foe. 

Leonie  uttered  a  piteous  cry  of  mortal  fear: 

"  God  help  me!     I  am  lost!  lost!  lost!" 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

"  You  are  mine  now/'  said  Charlie  Hart,  triumphantly, 
*'  You  see  how  useless  it  was  to  oppose  me  from  the  very 
first.  I  vowed  that  I  would  win  you,  my  scornful  beauty, 
and  you  see  I  have  kept  my  vow!" 

"  You  have  cheated,  duped,  and  deceived  me!"  gasped 
Leonie,  making  a  desperate  effort  to  tear  the  fatal  paper 
from  his  hand. 

**  All  is  fair  in  love  and  revenge,"  he  replied,  coolly 
placing  the  letter.^pja^oCJier  reachJ>Y  restoring  it  to  hi 


LEO1S1E     LOUKE.  113 

breast-pocket  "  1  admit  that  the  story  I  just  told  yon. 
was  a  clever  ruse  which  gained  your  sympathy  and  your 
signature.  Now,  let  me  explain  to  you  what  you  have 
done.  You  have  signed  this  paper,  which  recognizes  me  as 
— your  husband,  the  sharer  of  your  wealth — which  gives 
your  beautiful  self  to  me,  and — " 

"  Oh,  it  is  false— false!"  shrieked  Leonie,  the  pallor  of 
death  on  her  beautiful  face.  *'  I  thought  it  was  a  subscrip 
tion-paper — I  was  signing — a  blank  paper — and  my  name 
was  to  head  the  list!  It  was  a  trick  to  dupe  me,  worthy  of 
a  fiend!"  she  moaned,  wringing  her  white  hands  in  most 
intense  agony. 

"  It  does  not  matter  how  I  obtained  the  signature;  the 
world  will  readily  believe  you  knew  what  you  were  signing, 
that  you  were  entering  into  a  contract  which  would  make 
you  my  wife,'*  he  answered,  triumphantly. 

11  But  there  can  be  no  marriage  without  a  minister,'* 
cried  Leonie,  a  gleam  of  hope  struggling  through  the 
deathly  despair  on  her  face.  "  You  are  a  base  coward,  to 
frighten  me  into  believing  there  could  be!" 

"  This  contract  will  hold  good,  my  pretty  one.  I  know 
what  I  am  doing,  depend  upon  that,"  he  replied  insolently. 
'*  I  have  plenty  of  proof.  You  were  with  me  when  your 
father  died.  1  have  dated  the  paper  back;  and  I  can  get 
plenty  of  my  friends  to  swear  that  they  saw  you  sign  this 
document  then  and  there,  and  in  the  eyes  of  the  law  it 
binds  you  legally  to  me  as  my  wife. " 

"  Oh,  God!  why  did  you  let  me  come  here  to-night !" 
sobbed  Leonie,  sinking  down  on  her  knees,  and  uttering, a 
sharp,  piteous  cry.  "  This  man  has  tracked  me  down," 
she  wailed,  lifting  her  white,  horror-stricken  face  toward 
Heaven;  "  he  has  tracked  me  down,  and  there  is  nothing 
•Ise  left  for  me  to  do  but  to  die!" 

"  You  shall  not  die!"  exclaimed  Charlie  Hart,  fiercely. 
"  You  shall  live,  and  every  hour  shall  be  a  torture  to  you. 
I  will  wring  your  proud,  scornful  heart,  as  you  have  wrung 


214  LEOKIE    LOCKE. 

mine.  I  loved  you  once  with  a  love  that  was  my 
yon  trampled  upon  it,  and  crushed  it.  Your  love  might 
have  made  an  angel  of  me;  but  you  chose  to  make  a  fiend 
of  me  instead.  You  are  bound  to  me  for  life,  until  death 
parts  us.  If  you  refuse  to  accept  me  as  your  husband,  1 
will  give  the  whole  story  to  the  world.  You  loved  mo 
when  you  where  Leonie  Locke,  the  poor  working-girl;  and 
we  entered  into  this  secret  contract  because  your  father  was 
opposed  to  it,  yet  you  loved  me  too  well  to  give  me  up; 
and  when  wealth  came  to  you,  you  renounced  me,  and  you 
would  have  broken  the  bonds  that  held  us  together  if  it 
had  not  been  for  the  contract,  which  I  had  luckily  kept. 
Nothing  can  take  you  from  me,  sweet  Leonie.  I  have 
taken  your  fate,  your  future  into  my  keeping." 

His  passionate  eyes  devoured  her  fair  loveliness  as  he 
spoke.  The  beautiful,  crouching,  kneeling  figure  at  his 
feet,  with  her  glossy-brown,  disheveled  curls  falling  about 
her  like  a  mantle,  and  the  dumb  agony  of  death  on  her 
white  lips,  and  in  the  depths  of  her  dark,  despairing  eyes. 
Yes;  he  hated  her  with  all  the  passionate  strength  of  his 
nature,  because  he  knew  she  had  given  her  love  to  Gordon 
Carlisle  ^  and  she  loathed  him,  and,  as  he  had  said,  "  Next 
to  love,  revenge  is  sweet!" 

"  What  would  the  world  say  if  they  knew  the  strange 
*Gory  of  beautiful  Leonie  Locke,  the  heiress?"  he  repeated^ 
mockingly.  "  Society  would  be  shocked  if  they  knew 
where  you  were  on  the  night  your  father  died.  This  bit  of 
paper  alone  can  save  your  fair  name  and  honor — this  paper 
that  acknovvtedges  you  as  my  wife.  If  you  denied  yourself 
AS  such,  it  would  be  all  the  worse  for  you  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world;  men  would  shun  you,  and  women  would  scorn  you; 
tnd,  let  me  tell  you  another  thing:  if  society  knew  you  had 
been  here  to-night,  its  doors  would  be  forever  closed  against 
you.  I  will  tell  you  where  you  are. " 

He  leaned  over  and  whispered  but  a  few  words  hi  Leo- 
aid's  eer,  yet  they  shocked  her  to  th»  very  aoul;  and,  witi 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  1U 

a  desperate?  cry,  she  struggled  from  her  knees  and  dashed 
wildly  past  him  toward  the  entrance  door. 

But  his  strong  arms  drew  her  back. 

"  I  am  your  master  now,  imperious  Leonie;  and  I  elect 
that  you  shall  remain  where  you  are;  my  word  shall  be 
four  law.  There  is  no  Gordon  Carlisle  to  step  in  between 
as  this  time,  my  lovely,  scornful  bride!  I  have  you  all  to 
myself.  No  cry  from  your  sweet  lips  could  reach  the  eart 
of  the  mad  revelers  yonder.  Many  a  woman,  fair  as  you 
are,  has  cried  out  for  help  in  this  gilded  palace,  and  it  has 
been  denied  them.  There  is  no  one  to  help  you  here,  and 
the  kisses  you  have  denied  me  twice  before,  you  shall  pay 
toe  now  with  interest.  Struggle  as  much  as  you  please, 
*ay  love;  there  is  no  one  near  to  protect  you." 

"  There  is  some  one  here  to  protect  this  young  lady  from 
the  insult  of  a  wretch  like  you!"  cried  a  clear,  ringing 
foice;  and,  in  an  instant,  a  tall  young  man  in  a  black 
domino  had  gained  Leonie's  side,  and  with  one  powerful 
blow  from  his  muscular  arm  felled  the  astounded  coward 
to  the  floor.  "  If  we  were  not  in  the  presence  of  a  lady,  I 
would  give  you  the  thrashing  you  so  richly  deserve!"  cried 
the  stranger,  \rith  a  voice  trembling  with  indignation,  and 
his  eyes  flashing  luridly  behind  his  mask  as  he  spurned  his 
fallen  foe  with  the  heel  of  his  boot.  "  Do  not  fear,  Miss 
Locke/'  whispered  her  preserver;  "  I  am  here  to  protect 
you,  and  I  will  do  it  with  my  life,  if  need  be.  Have  con 
fidence  in  me — I  am  Paul  Rexford!" 

It  was  pitiful  to  see  how  Leonie  clung  to  him  sobbing,; 
and  with  a  world  of  gratitude  in  her  beautiful  eyes — a  sight 
that  turned  the  boiling  blood  in  Charlie  Hart's  veins  to 
fire,  as  he  struggled  to  his  feet  and  confronted  them. 

"  One  word  with  you  first,  and  then  I  will  allow  you  to 
pass  with  the  girl." 

"  Oh,  don't  go:  please,  don't  go,"  sobbed  Leonie,  fran*- 
tioally.  "  He  is.  a  bad  man.  Mr.  Rexford:  he  would  mar* 
der  you  i  J  he  coakf 


116  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

*'I  will  soon  settle  with  the  fellow,"  he  answered! 
Jiaughtily,  unclasping  her  clinging  arms,  and  following 
Hart  a  little  distance  from  where  Leonie  stood.  Was  it 
fancy,  or  did  she  hear  the  word  "  satisfaction  "  pass  be 
tween  them? 

Then  Charlie  Hart  turned  on  his  heel,  and  the  youn£ 
professor  stooping  down  and  rearranging  the  golden  veil, 
'which  had  been  torn  from  Leonie 's  face  in  the  struggle, 
drew  her  trembling  little  hand  within  his  arm,  and  literally 
forced  his  way  with  her  toward  the  door,  placing  her  in  her 
carriage,  where  Aimee,  scarcely  less  frightened  than  Leonie 
berself,  was  already  seated. 

As  Leonie  had  passed  through  the  entrance  hall,  a  boy 
bad  thrust  a  wisp  of  paper  into  her  hand,  and,  quite  insen 
sibly,  scarcely  knowing  what  she  did,  Leonie  thrust  the 
note  into  her  pocket,  not  daring  to  open  it  there,  and  not 
daring  to  refuse  to  accept  it,  for  she  felt  that  it  must  be 
from  Charlie  Hart 

Paul  Rexford  calmly  placed  Leonie  on  the  seat  beside  her 
maid,  and  ordered  the  coachman  to Lexington  Ave 
nue,  taking  a  seat  opposite  Leonie. 

What  it  cost  him  to  resist  taking  the  lovely  shrinking 
form  in  his  strong  arms  and  pillowing  that  brown,  curly 
nead.  on  his  throbbing  breast,  and  whispering  to  her  that 
«jhe  was  safe,  only  Heaven  knew.  He  was  too  thorough 
a  gentleman  to  take  advantage  of  the  situation,  or  the 
service  he  had  rendered,  by  word,  act,  or  deed.  Yet  he 
could  not  help  asking  himself  over  and  over  again,  what 
had  induced  Leonie  to  attend  that  ball.  He  well  knew  that 
Mr.  Barrett  or  his  wife  knew  nothing  of  it,  or  they  never 
#ould  have  permitted  Leonie  to  have  gone. 

It  was  only  a  young  girl's  prank.  Yet,  Heaven  alone 
knew  what  LeomVs  folly  might  have  cost  her  if  he  had  not 
been  there  to  protect  her.  As  for  Leonie,  her  fair  face  was 
burning  with  very  shame.  What  must  he  think  of  her? 
What  excuse  could  she  oiler  for  being  where  she  was  to* 


night?  He  must  keep  her  secret;  if  the  world  knew  of  it 
she  would  surely  die  of  shame.  Aimee,  her  maid,  did  not 
know  there  was  anything  amiss.  Paul  Kexford,  whom  she 
bad  recognized  at  once,  had  come  to  her,  saying  Leonie  felt 
ill  with  the  heat  of  the  room  and  the  stifling,  heavy  odor  of 
roses  and  wished  to  go  home. 

She  could  not  confess  to  him  before  Aimee  why  she  had 
gone,  of  the  romantic  note  and  ticket  in  the  heart  of  the 
crimson  roses.  No,  no!  a  thousand  times  no!  She  would 
wait  until  he  came  to  give  her  a  lesson  on  the  morrow,  and 
then  she  would  tell  him  all;  she  would  tell  him  too  of  the 
terrible  conspiracy  that  had  been  formed  against  her  to 
sign  that  horribe  paper,  and  perhaps  he  could  advise  her 
what  to  do. 

He  had  removed  the  domino  and  mask,  and  sat  opposite 
her,  the  same  thoughtful,  grave  professor,  behind  his  im 
penetrable  blue  glasses. 

"  I  have  lost  his  respect  forever,"  she  sighed,  shrinking 
back  among  the  cushions;  and  that  thought  was  harder 
than  all  others  to  bear,  for  the  startling  truth  had  come 
suddenly  upon  her — she  loved  Mm  ! 

At  first  she  had  deluded  her  heart  into  the  belief  she  wa« 
interested  in  him  because  he  was  so  like  Gordon  Carlisle, 
the  young  lover  that  had  won  her  girlish  heart,  but  now 
for  the  first  time  she  realized  that  she  loved  him  for  him* 
seit  alone,  poor  and  obscure  though  he  was.  What  did  h 
matter  whether  he  had  wealth  or  not;  she  had  enough  for 
both. 

He  held  her  one  sweet  thrilling  moment  in  his  arms  at 
parting  as  he  assisted  her  to  alight.  Dear  Heaven,  how 
little  he  dreamed  under  what  thrilling  circum^tpnces  he 
was  to  look  upon  Leonie's  face  again,  or  what  the  morrow 
was  to  bring  forth.  And  with  a  softly  breathed  "  good 
night/'  Leonie  sped  up  the  marble  steps  and  to  her  own 
room,  where,  hastilxJe<*»^  th»  dfleoiLshe  drew  a  chair  up 


118  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

before  the  grate  and  took  the  mysterious  note  from 

pocket. 


CHAPTEE  XXTT. 

ALL  in  a  heap  before  the  glowing  embers  of  the  grafa 
Leonie  sunk  down  with  the  note  clutched  tightly  in  hei 
nervous  fingers. 

"  What  had  he  to  say  to  her  that  he  had  not  already 
said?"  she  asked  herself  vaguely,  as  she  smoothed  out  the 
bit  of  paper  and  held  it  toward  the  fire-light. 

There  were  but  a  few  words: 

"  LEONIE, — I  shall  give  you  until  Wednesday  next  to 
think  over  what  1  have  said;  if  you  do  not  send  for  me  at 
the  expiration  of  that  time,  I  shall  call  in  person  at  your 
home  and  demand  an  interview  with  my  wife.  If  you 
doubt  my  power,  consult  with  Mr.  Barrett  in  reference  to 
it,  and  he  will,  of  course,  inform  you  that  the  document  to 
which  your  signature  is  attached  makes  it  legally  binding. 
If  you  are  wise  you  will  make  the  best  of  it  and  send 
for  ma  Your  devoted  husband, 

"  CHAELIE  HART/' 

Like  some  beautiful  bird  whose  breast  had  just  been 
pierced  by  a  cruel  arrow  and  had  sunk  down  to  die  in  aE 
its  youth  and  gorgeous  beauty,  Leonie  sunk  down  in  hei 
dazzling  golden  robe,  which  she  had  not  taken  time  to  re 
move,  before  the  glowing  coals,  with  the  bitterest  cry  or 
her  lips  that  ever  welled  up  from  a  young  girl's  tortured 
soul. 

She  tore  the  slip  of  paper  into  a  thousand  shreds  and 
ground  them  beneath  her  heel  into  the  hearts  of  the  lilies 
on  the  velvet  carpet;  but  the  letters  were  written  in  her 
brain  with  a  brand  of  lire,  and  she  could  not  tear  them 
thence. 

She  was  just  beginniac  to  realiss.,the  full  horror  of  what 


LOCKE. 

She  had  done.  She  had  read  of  young  girls  who  had  been 
pierced  to  the  heart  by  the  keen  sharp  thrnst  of  a  dagger 
by  their  own  hand,  but  she  had  never  heard  of  a  young 
girl  whose  heart  had  been  slain  by  one  dash  of  the  pen- 
no,  not  one.  "Was  it  true  Charlie  Hart  could  claim  her? 
If  she  defied  him  would  he  not  give  that  cruel  story  to  th& 
world — of  where  she  was  on  the  night  her  father  died? 

Others  had  believed  that  cruel  story  before,  and  the 
scandal  had  followed  her  about  until  every  avenue  of  earn 
ing  her  bread  had  been  closed  against  her. 

Now  she  was  Leonie  Locke  the  heiress,  and  it  would  be 
fc  thousand  times  worse.  The  cruel  world  never  loses  a 
chance  to  drag  a  young  and  beautiful  woman  down  from 
her  proud  height  to  the  verge  of  madness  and  despair 
when  it  can. 

Oh,  the  shame  of  it — the  bitter,  cruel  shame  of  it!  She 
remembered  how  all  the  working-girls  in  the  shops  had 
turned  against  her  when  they  found  she  could  not  prove 
false  the  wicked  charge  that  Charlie  Hart  had  brought 
against  her,  and  it  would  oe  tne  same  way  now.  Men  and 
women  would  shun  her,  although  she  was  as  innocent  as  a 
babe,  because  she  could  not  prove  that  she  was  guiltless. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  could  she  keep  her  lips  sealed 
and  acknowledge  this  man,  in  whose  hands  she  had  placed 
the  weapon  of  power  that  was  turned  against  her,  as  her 
husband? 

Leonie's  very  soul  shrunk  from  the  horrible  thought. 

"No!  no! — a  thousand  times  no  I"  she  cried.  "Better 
ieath  than  that;  it  would  end  in  a  tragedy — I  would  kilt 
myself  first,  or — or — I  would  kill  him!" 

In  such  a  cruel  dilemma  as  this,  the  most  pitiful  in 
which  an  innocent  young  girl  ever  found  herself  placed,  no 
wonder  her  poor  brain  was  stung  to  madness,  look  which 
way  she  would.  How  long  she  sat  there  in  her  trailing 
golden  robe  before  the  fire,  Leonie  never  knew.  At  length 
she  started  to  her  fe«t  with  a  wailing,  piteous  cry. 


44  Another  boor  like  this  would  drive  me  mad!    I  must 
see  Paul  Bexford  at  onoe;  he,  above  all  others,  can  advise 


me." 


The  hands  of  the  gilded  clock  on  the  mantel  pointed  to 
uidnight,  but  in  the  great  stress  of  her  agony  Leonie  neves 
stopped  to  consider  it. 

She  had  not  forgotten  his  address — Fifth  Avenue  Hotel. 
He  would  surely  come  down  to  the  parlor  for  a  few  mo 
ments  if  she  sent  up  her  card. 

"  I  can  not  live  through  all  the  dark  hours  of  the  night 
with  this  terrible  weight  of  sorrow  on  my  heart.  I  would 
go  mad." 

And  hastily  going  to  her  wardrobe,  she  selected  a  thick, 
dark  robe,  which  she  quickly  donned,  and,  twining  a  heavy 
veil  over  her  dark,  plumed  hat,  she  softly  quitted  the 
room,  fastening  the  door  after  her,  crept  through  the 
dimly  lighted  corridors  as  swiftly  as  a  shadow,  and  gained 
the  street. 

Although  there  were  equipages  of  every  description  in 
her  own  stables,  Leonie  knew  it  would  only  cause  comment 
to  arouse  the  coachman  at  that  hour  of  the  night,  and 
hastily  walking  a  block  or  so  from  the  house,  she  hailed  a 
passing  coach. 

"  I  want  you  to  take  me  to  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hote!, 
please,  without  a  moment's  delay,"  she  said,  in  a  low, 
stifled  voice,  drawing  her  veil  more  closely  over  her  face  as 
she  spoke. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  class  of  men  who  see  as  much  of  the 
rough  and  dark  side  of  life  as  New  York  cabmen.  No 
mystery  surprises  them.  Every  night  brings  its  own  thrill 
ing  adventure  after  the  curtain  of  darkness  is  drawn  over 
the  great,  wicked  city. 

"  Fare  in  advance,  ma'am,"  replied  the  man,  drawing 
rein.  "  It's  our  rules." 

Without,  a  word,  Leonie  complied  with  the  request, 
Hurriedly  entering  tlwjBoach  and  sinking  back  pale  and 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  19! 

exhausted  among  the  cushions.  How  she  clung  to  the 
thought  his  words  had  inspired  in  her  heart — "  I  will  pro 
tect  yon,  Leonie,  with  my  very  life  if  need  be. " 

Could  he  save  her  from  the  awful  danger  that  hung  like 
a  sword  over  her  head?  Oould  he  save  her  from  the  conse 
quences  of  her  own  mad  reckless  folly? 

If  he  decided  there  was  no  hope  for  her,  she  would  fall 
down  at  his  feet  and  die,  rather  than  live  as  the  wife  of 
Charlie  Hart. 

At  last  the  coach  stopped  before  the  hotel,  and,  at  that 
moment,  one  of  the  officious  night-clerks  made  his  appear 
ance  to  welcome  the  benighted  traveler. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  alight,  unless — unless  a  gentleman, 
vho  is  stopping  here,  will  see  me  for  a  few  moments  only 
ill  the  parlor,"  said  Leonie,  timidly,  and  with  a  childish 
tremor  in  her  voice.  "  The  gentleman's  name  is  Rexford, 
Mr.  Paul  Eexf ord,  professor  of  music  and  languages. " 

"  I  do  not  know  of  any  such  person  stopping  with  us, 
etill  1/11  go  in  and  look  over  the  books  and  make  the  in 
quiry.  " 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  replied  Leonie,  gratefully. 

"  Have  you  a  card? — the  gentleman  will  no  doubt 
wish  it. " 

"  I  have  no  card,"  replied  Leonie,  .painfully  embarrassed. 

"Your  name  will  do,  then,"  said  the  clerk,  with  his 
pencil  and  note-book  in  hand. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  give  my  name,"  replied  Leonie,  in  a 
low  voice;  "  simply  say  a  lady  wishes  a  short  interview  with 
him  in  the  parlor.  I  will  await  his  answer  here/' 

The  clerk  bowed,  politely,  and  re-entered  the  office. 

"  There's  some  mystery  here,"  he  muttered,  taking  a 
backward  glance  at  the  little  white  hand,  which  was  ablaze 
with  diamonds  she  had  forgotten  to  remove,  lying  idly  ic 
her  lap.  "  Some  deep  mystery  on  hand.  There's  alwayt 
a  woman  at  the  bottom  of  every  deep-laid  scheme — younj 
and  beautiful  women  ^enerallv.  .1  wonder  if  I  ought  fo 


1.EOKIE    LOCKET 

give  the  affair  away  to  the  detective  dozing  in  the  rea* 
office?  1*11  consider  the  matter  by  the  time  her  interview 
js  over  with  this  professor. " 

Patiently  the  clerk  ran  his  finger  np  and  down  the  list  of 
names  on  the  register.  No  such  name  appeared  there.  A 
second  clerk  was  called  to  his  aid  with  no  better  success, 
and  at  length  the  clerk  stepped  out  to  the  anxious  dark- 
robed  figure  in  the  coach  with  the  startling  intelligence 
that  no  such  person  as  the  one  named  was  stopping  there, 
nor  had  such  a  gentleman  ever  stopped  there  to  their 
knowledge — and  they  were  authority  on  that  point;  in  fact, 
it  was  their  business  to  know  just  who  was  stopping  there. 

"  Oh,  sir,  are  you  quite  sure  there  is  no  mistake?" 
sobbed  Leonie;  "it  is  a  matter  of  great  importance  to 
me," 

"  Quite  sure,  miss/'  replied  the  clerk.  "  I  made  sure  of 
that  fact  by  calling  my  assistant  to  aid  me  in  the  search, 
and  my  report  is  correct.  No  such  person  has  stopped 
here  this  month.  No  such  name  appears  on  our  files. " 

"  Thank  you/'  returned  Leonie. 

"  Shall  I  drive  on,  miss?"  inquired  the  cabman,  im 
patiently.  **  What  street  and  number?" 

"  Drive  slowly  up  the  avenue  a  block  or  two,  and  I  will 
Jhink  where  to  go  by  that  time. " 

The  door  closed  with  a  bang,  and  the  coach  whirled  up 
Broadway  at  a  rattling  pace,  while  Leonie  with  a  deathly- 
white  face  like  one  dazed  by  a  sudden  shock,  sunk  back 
into  the  coach. 

"  No  such  person  has  ever  stopped  there?  Oh,  Heavenly 
father,  is  he  false,  too?"  she  moaned.  "  In  all  the  whole 
wide  world,  is  no  one  true?" 

There  was  no  mistake.  She  had  often  heard  him  say  he 
was  stopping  at  the  "  Fifth  Avenue,"  and  once  one  of  the 
translations  from  her  French  lesson  had  been  written  o* 
ane  of  the  sheets  of  paper  that  bore  that  caption. 

"Gordon  was  false^and  now  wa  are  too,  Paul?"  she 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  123 

\ 

gasped.     "  Erery  one  in  the  whole  world  seems  conspiring 
against  me  to  make  me  lose  faith  in  all  mankind. " 

"  Where  shall  I  drive  to  now?"  asked  the  driver,  stop 
ping  short. 

44 1  must  go  to  some  lawyer's  office,  the  best  one  in  New 
York;  take  me  there,"  cried  Leonie,  distractedly. 

"  Lawyers  are  not  found  in  their  office  at  this  time  o' 
night,"  frowned  the  driver,  muttering  to  himself,  "  She 
must  be  daft  or  crazy. ' ' 

"  Then  drive  up  and  down,  block  after  block,  until  day 
light  breaks  and  the  lawyers  are  in  their  offices.  I  have 
money.  I  will  pay  you  whatever  you  ask.  Don't  interrupt 
my  thoughts.  Drive  on  quickly — anywhere. " 

"  This  is  an  adventure,"  chuckled  the  cabman,  cracking 
his  whip.  "  She  has  plenty  of  money,  has  she,  hey?  Well, 
then  she  shall  fork  over  an  even  twenty — not  a  penny  less. 
She  has  glittering  gems  on  her  fingers,  they  will  be  security 
enough  for  the  pay. " 

Daylight  broke  at  last,  and  the  bright,  sweet  sunshine 
dispelled  the  grim  shadows  of  the  night.  The  heart  of 
the  great  metropolis  commenced  to  throb;  and,  at  length, 
the  coach  that  had  rolled  up  and  down  the  streets  of  Nev 
York  the  long  dreary  night  through,  with  its  jaded  foam- 
flecked  horses,  drew  up  before  the  office  of  New  York's 
most  famous  criminal  lawyers. 

"  Here  we  are,  miss,"  said  the  driver,  drawing  rein. 
"  Will  you  stop  here,  or  go  on?" 

There  was  no  answer.  The  stillness  of  the  tomb  reigned 
within  the  coach,  and  the  curtains  were  closely  drawn. 

"  My  God!"  cried  the  cabman,  excitedly,  "  I'll  bet  my 
life  the  girl  has  killed  herself,  and  in  my  coach,  too!" 

CHAPTER  XXIIL 

IN  a  moment  the  driver  had  leaped  from  his  box  and 
wrenched  open  the  qoach  door  in  the  most  intense  excite* 
rnent  * 


X24  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

Leonie  had  not  vanished  into  thin  air.  A  food  of  bright 
invigorating  sunshine  fell  upon  the  white  face  nestling  back 
among  the  cushions,  on  the  tangled  brown  curls  and  white 
lids  with  their  long  curling  lashes,  and  he  saw  at  a  glance 
she  had  fallen  fast  asleep,  like  a  tired  child. 

The  rough  jolting  of  the  coach  had  wooed  her  to  slumber 
— that  panacea  that  shuts  out  all  pain  and  sorrow — balmy 
sleep. 

A  look  of  intense  relief  swept  over  his  face  as  he  touched 
the  little  white  hands  lying  in  her  lap. 

"  You  wanted  to  be  taken  to  a  good  lawyer;  here  you 
are,  miss." 

The  dark  eyes  flashed  open  in  an  instant. 

"  Thank  you.  I  will  not  trouble  you  to  wait/'  andr 
paying  the  exorbitant  sum  the  cabman  charged,  Leonie 
turned  and  entered  the  lawyer's  office. 

Mr.  Sharp,  one  of  the  most  successful  lawyers  in  the 
profession,  sat  before  his  desk  glancing  over  the  columns 
of  the  morning  papers.  He  certainly  looked  every  letter  of 
hia  name,  as  his  keen  gray  eyes  swept  over  the  page,  noting 
the  items  of  interest  at  a  single  glance. 

Suddenly  a  shadow  fell  between  him  and  the  sunshinu, 
And  glancing  up,  he  saw  a  young  lady,  heavily  veiled, 
standing  in  timid  hesitation  in  the  door-way. 

Lawyer  Sharp  was  never  abrupt  in  his  actions.  He  aro&e 
deliberately  from  his  seat,  and,  bowing  politel^  invited 
her  to  enter. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Leonie,  taking  the  seat  he  placed 
for  her.  "  I — I  wish  to  consult  you  about  a  very  important 
matter,  sir,  if  you  can  spare  me  a  few  moments?" 

Lawyer  Sharp  consulted  his  watch. 

"  I  have  a  case  in  court  at  ten;  it  wants  an  hour  to  that 
time.  1  can  give  you  until  then." 

He  Baw  that  she  was  young  and  beautiful  and  slightly 
timid,  The  gossamer  folds  of  the  veil  could  not  quite  conr 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  125 

ceal  the  pretty,  childish  face  and  the  lovely,  wistful,  dark 
eyes. 

He  folded  the  morning  papers,  carefully  laying  them 
aside  in  order  to  give  her  time  to  recover  her  composure. 

"  I  came  to  you  to  ask  advice  for  a  friend  of  mine/' 
faltered  Leonie,  "  a  young  girl,  upon  whom  a  terrible 
shadow  has  fallen;  and  if  there  is  no  ray  of  sunshine,  no 
glimmer  of  hope  that  she  can  be  extricated  from  it,  she  will 
surely  die;  her  heart  will  break.  You  must  give  me  your 
best  advice.  Oh,  sir,  you  must  find  some  way  of  escape 
for  her. ' ' 

"  It  is  her  own  story,  and  the  friend  is  herself/'  thought 
the  keen-witted  lawyer,  but  he  answered,  simply: 

"  I  will  certainly  give  you  my  best  advice,  after  1  hear 
the  story,  but  I  must  beg  that  you  will  give  me  the  full  de 
tails  in  the  case  if  I  am  to  try  to  help  you. " 

"  It  is  a  pitiful  story/'  said  Leonie,  choking  down  the 
sobs  that  threatened  to  betray  her,  and  hushing  the  musical 
voice  that  was-  struggling  so  desperately  to  tell  the  sad 
story,  "  of  a  young  girl,  who  was  made  the  innocent  victim 
of  a  terrible  plot,  and  she  does  not  know  whether  she  is  a 
legal  wife  or  not " 

Leonie  was  prepared  to  hear  an  exclamation  of  intense 
surprise  fall  from  the  lips  of  the  man  of  law,  but  instead, 
he  answered,  simply: 

*  There  are  thousands  of  just  such  cases  that  are  entered 
in  the  courts  daily — the  story  of  woman's  love  and  man's 
baseness.  I  have  a  heart-felt  sympathy  for  all  such  young 
girls,  who  have  drained  to  the  dregs  the  bitterness  in  love's 
cup." 

"  But  this  young  girl  did  not  love  this  man/'  inter 
rupted  Leonie,  eagerly;  "  he  was  her  mortal  foe;  he  vowed 
to  destroy  her  because  she  scorned  his  offer  of  marriage." 

Mr.  Sharp  knit  his  brow,  reflectively;  it  was  evident  thif 
case  would  develop  new  features. 


\ 

126  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

"Go  on  with  your  story,  madame;  I  am  all  attention,* 
he  said,  kindly. 

"  She  was  only  a  working-girl  when  this  man  first  met 
her,  but  she  was  none  the  worse  for  that/'  continued  Le- 
Dnie,  spiritedly. 

"  Certainly  not,"  assented  the  lawyer,  energetically. 
;*  I  hold  all  working-girls  in  the  highest  esteem;  there  can 
be  no  greater  proof  of  their  honor  and  purity  of  heart  than 
the  fact  they  can  earn  their  own  living.  I  married  a 
working-girl  myself,  and  I  often  tell  Mrs.  Sharp,  when  I 
see  her  arrayed  in  her  silks  and  jewels,  that  in  my  eyes, 
with  all  her  adornments,  she  looks  no  fairer  than  on  the 
first  day  I  saw  her  in  a  neat  print  dress  and  white  apron, 
when  she  came  to  me  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  to  tell  me  the 
cruel  story  of  •  an  employer  who  had  withheld  the  mere 
pittance  she  had  earned  during  the  week,  and  begged  me 
to  collect  it  for  her.  I  collected  it  for  her,  and  that  pretty, 
humble  working-girl  is  now  Mrs.  Sharp.  Forgive  me  for 
the  digression,  or  rather  interruption.  You  can  under 
stand  now,  why  my  heart  is  always  tender  toward  working- 
girls." 

Leonie  had  more  courage  to  proceed,  and  she  cleared  her 
voice  and  went  on: 

"  This  man  was  the  most  bitter  foe  of  this  poor  working- 
girl,  he  dogged  her  footsteps  and  ruined  her  fair  name  by 
slanderous  stories,  until  she  was  driven  from  place  tc 
place,  for  no  one  would  give  her  work.  He  meant  to  make 
it  impossible  for  her  to  earn  her  own  living,  believing  she 
would  have  to  turn  to  him  at  last.  He  haunted  her  down 
to  the  verge  of  madness,  he  tortured  her  so." 

"  I  see,  I  see/*  replied  the  lawyer.  "  Hanging  is  too 
good  for  such  scoundrels.  If  1  am  elected  senator  I 
shall  do  everything  in  my  power  to  pass  a  bill,  imposing 
the  highest  and  most  rigid  penalty  the  law  allows  upon  a 
man  who  dares  attempt  to  persecute  a  defenseless  woman, 
and  who  dares  attack  hor  with  the  breath  o*  slandec 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  13? 

When  such  men  have  daughters  of  their  own  I  have 
always  taken  notice  the  blow  falls  hack  on  their  own 
heart  in  after  years,  through  their  own  children;  it  is  the 
vengeance  of  an  angry  God.  But  go  on,  child — go  on." 

"  Suddenly  a  great  good  fortune  was  showered  down 
from  heaven  upon  this  young  girl.  A  great  deal  of  money 
was  left  her.  She  had  no  need  to  work  any  more,  for  she 
was  an  heiress.  She  thought  she  had  left  the  old  life  far 
behind  her;  but,  when  this  man  heard  of  the  wealth  that 
had  fallen  to — to  my  friend,  he  renewed  his  vow  of  making 
her  his  wife  for  the  sake  of  her  gold  as  well  as  revenge. " 

Leonie  drew  her  breath  with  a  quick  sob;  but  the  lawyer 
pretended  not  to  notice  her  deep  agitation.  He  was  more 
convinced  than  ever  that  she  was  telling  him  the  story  of 
her  own  life. 

"  She  was  young,  and  knew  nothing  of  roguery;  and, 
not  long  ago,  a  paper  was  brought  to  her  which,  she  sup 
posed,  was  a  subscription-paper  to  help  the  needy  poor, 
and  quite  thoughtlessly — oh,  sir,  I  assure  you  she  was  inno 
cent  as  a  babe  that  she  was  doing  that  which  was  to  cause 
her  such  a  world  of  bitter  woe — she  thoughtlessly  signed 
the  paper,  and— oh,  the  horror  of  it! — the  next  moment 
she  found  what  she  had  done — signed  a  contract  of  marriage 
with  the  man  she  hated  with  all  the  strength  of  her  soul 
And  now,  sir,  I  ask  you  the  question  that  must  blight  a  life 
or  brighten  it:  Can  the  man  hold  her  to  that  contract  she 
so  unwittingly  signed?  Oh,  sir,  is  it  legal?  Is  she — this 
poor  broken-hearted  friend  of  mine — the  wife  of  this  man 
or  not?" 

Lawyer  Sharp  could  see  the  little  white  hands  clutch  to 
gether  as  Leonie  half  arose  from  her  seat  in  the  agony  of 
her  entreaty.  The  veil  she  had  worn  so  carefully  to  screen 
her  identity  had  fallen  unheeded  from  her  face  and  slipped 
to  the  floor,  yet  Leonie,  in  her  intense  sorrow,  had  not 
noticed  it;  and  the  lawver  was  °*™«fc~with  the  cold,  frozen 


138  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

•«^ 

agony  written  on  every  lineament  of  the  most  bcaatifm 
girlish  face  he  had  ever  beheld  in  all  his  life. 

"  Oh,  sir,  think  quick,  and  tell  me,  I  beseech  you,  is  she 
his  wife  or  is  she  not?"  she  pleaded,  taking  a  faltering  step 
aearer  the  lawyer,  her  face  growing  so  pallid  he  feared  she 
would  fall  in  a  deathly  swoon  at  his  feet.  He  had  read  the 
mock-marriage  stories  with  which  all  the  New  York  papers 
had  been  teeming,  and  marriages  which  had  been  forced; 
but,  in  all  his  practice,  he  had  never  met  with  a  case  which 
involved  such  a  delicate  point  of  law  as  this.  How  was  he 
to  answer  her?  She  had  signed  the  document  of  her  own 
free  will.  Still,  all  depended  upon  the  delicate  details 
which  surrounded  this  peculiar  case. 

"  When  and  where  did  this  man  make  your  friend  the 
first  proposal  of  marriage?"  asked  the  lawyer. 

He  was  hardly  prepared  for  the  startling  answer  she 
made  him. 

"  At  midnight,  in  the  suit  of  rooms  he — he — " 

"  His  apartments,"  said  the  matter-of-fact  man  of  the 
law,  coming  quickly  to  the  rescue. 

She  was  too  painfully  embarrassed  to  continue,  and  she 
nodded  her  head  in  shame.  It  was  pitiful  to  see  the  burn- 
ing  flush  that  mantled  her  fair  brow.  Yet,  matters  were 
beginning  to  look  dark  against  her  in  the  eyes  of  Mr. 
Sharp.  Beautiful  and  guilty  women  always  have  the  trick 
of  looking  the  most  innocent.  Her  face  had  all  the  inno 
cent  frankness  of  a  little  child  about  it;  but  the  story  she 
told  weighed  heavily  against  her. 

"  Where  was  she  when  she  signed  that  document?"  con 
tinued  Mr.  Sharp. 

"  Oh,  I  can  not  tell  you!"  sobbed  Leonie,  shuddering, 
as  she  sunk  back  in  her  seat.  .  "  But  tell  me,  kind  sir,  do 
you  think  he  could  hold  her  to  that  contract  she  so  bitterly 
repents  signing?  Remember,  all  the  after  happiness  of  a 
yaung  girl's  life  hangs  on  your  reply." 

For  a  moment  silouce  more  solemn  than  the  stillness  of 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  12ft 

the  grave  tell  between  them.  He  could  hear  Laome's 
heart  throb  spasmodically  from  where  he  sat 

"  Taking  all  the  details  into  consideration,  her  very 
presence  at  the  hour  of  the  night  where  no  young  gir* 
should  have  been,  and  the  signature  written  by  her  own 
free  will,  under  the  laws  of  this  state  would,  in  my  opinion, 
give  this  man  the  right  to  claim  her  lawfully  as  his  wife. 
Circumstances,  of  course,  alter  cases,  and  e*ery  state 
differs  in  its  opinion  in  summing  them  up.  There  is  n</t 
the  least  doubt  in  my  mind,  according  to  the  facts  yon 
have  stated,  his  claim  to  her  as  his  wife  can  be  made  ou/ 
quite  legal.  There  is  no  loop-hole  of  escape  for  yom 
friend,  as  I  can  see. " 

Her  red  lips  opened  with  the  most  piteous  cry  that  ever 
broke  from  a  young  girl's  lips,  and  pierced  the  sunlit 
heavens — a  cry  that  rang  in  the  lawyer's  ears  to  the  lajt 
day  of  his  life. 

There  was  the  dash  of  a  dagger  in  her  white,  jewekd 
hand,  and  the  next  moment  she  fell,  with  face  upturned  to 
the  morning  sunshine,  at  Lawyer  Sharp's  feet. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

IT  was  a  moment  of  thrilling  horror  never  to  be  forgot 
ten. 

The  instant  Lawyer  Sharp  had  seen  the  upraised  dagger 
in  Leonie's  white  fingers,  he  sprung  forward  with  the 
rapidity  of  lightning,  dashing  the  dagger  aside  with  all  his 
force  against  the  heavy  oaken  desk,  and  it  snapped  in 
twain  at  the  hut  just  as  Leonie  made  a  desperate  effort  to 
strike  at  her  hearc. 

He  had  averted  a  tragedy — he  was  thankful  for  that; 
but  the  woe  on  the  lovely,  despairing  young  face  was  the 
most  poignant  he  had  ever  witnessed;  it  would  have  wrong 
tears  from  hearts  of  stone. 

She  had  not  fainted:  onls  cowered  down  at  his  feet  in 

6 


CO.  i 


190  LEOKIE    LOCKE. 

the  intensity  of  her  mad,  passionate  sorrow,  and  he 
raised  her  and  placed  her  in  her  seat  again. 

"  Why  did  you  not  let  me  die?"  she  gasped,  covering 
her  face  with  her  hands.  "  I  wanted  so  much  to  die.  li 
life  is  so  hard  to  bear  when  I  am  young,  how  would  it  be  ii 
1  were  forced  to  live  through  the  dark  years  of  the  future. 
Ro*t  can  the  sunshine  and  the  world  seem  bright  while  the 
bitterness  of  death  shrouds  a  life — a  human  life?"  shs 
moaned. 

The  lawyer  knew  he  must  do  something  to  arouse  her. 

"You  should  not  take  your  friend's  case  so  much  tc 
heart.  Your  grief  could  not  be  more  intense  if  it  had  been 
your  own  story  you  had  been  relating." 

The  effect  of  his  words  was  magical  upon  Leonie. 

4<  The  young  girl  who  has  suffered  so  is  the  only  friend 
T  have  who  cares  for  me,"  faltered  Leouie;  "  her  sorrovf 
touched  my  heart.  I  will  tell  her  what  you  have  told  me, 
sir." 

She  paid  him  his  consultation  fee,  and  bade  him  good- 
morning;  but  he  noticed  her  step  was  not  quite  steady  aa 
she  left  the  office,  and  she  clasped  her  little  white  hand* 
over  her  heart,  as  though  there  was  a  pain  there  greater 
than  she  could  bear. 

Mr.  Sharp  rang  his  bell  hurriedly  for  his  confidential 
clerk. 

"  I  want  you  to  follow  that  young  girl,"  he  said,  "  for  I 
have  an  idea  she  will  attempt  to  make  away  with  herself. 
She  has  had  a  great  trouble — so  great  a  trouble  death 
would  be  a  relief  to  her.  Be  near  enough  to  prevent  any 
thing  like  that.  Watch  over  her  until  you  see  her  safe 
among  friends.  Overtake  her  and  hand  her  this  veil,  that 
f ou  may  get  a  good  look  at  her  face.  Tell  her  she  dropped 
it  It  may  be  necessary  for  you  to  remember  her  face  dis 
tinctly  and  the  tone  of  her  voice." 

Like  one  in  a  dream,  Leonie  walked  out  of  the  lawyer's 
office  and  into  the  street,  bot^ihe  sweet,  warm  sunshine 


LBONIE     LOCKE.  181 

blotted  out  She  was  the  wife  of  Charlie  Hart; 
nothing  could  change  it;  and  she  had  done  it  all  by  on* 
reckless,  thoughtless  dash  of  the  pen.  She  had  brought 
down  a  curse  upon  her  own  head  that  only  death  could  free 
her  from. 

All  life  and  brightness  was  over  for  her  now.  She  was 
the  wife  of  one  man,  while  her  heart  with  all  its  yearning, 
passionate,  pent-up  love  was  given  to  Paul  Rexford,  who 
was,  ah,  so  like  Gordon  Carlisle. 

Every  young  girl  knows  when  she  is  loved;  she  can  read 
it  in  a  thousand  ways;  the  clasp  of  a  hand,  the  tremor  in 
the  voice,  and  the  language  of  the  eyes  that  never  passes- 
the  lips.  And  in  that  one  moment  at  the  masked  ball, 
when  he  had  clasped  her  so  passionately  to  his  throbbing 
heart  and  murmured:  "  I  will  defend  you  with  my  very 
life  if  need  be,"  Leonie  knew  that  Paul  Rexford  loved  her; 
but  his  love  bad  come  to  her  too  late. 

At  the  telegraph  office,  Leonie  hesitated,  and  finally 
ended  by  sending  a> telegram  to  Mrs.  Barrett,  that  she  had 
been  detained  at  the  house  of  friends  and  would  not  be 
home  for  a  day  or  so. 

"  1  could  not  look  on  the  face  of  any  one  I  knew/'  she 
sighed,  as  she  trod  aimlessly  the  sunlit  streets.  "  I  must 
be  all  alone  with  this  terrible  sorrow  of  mine." 

How  eagerly  she  watched  the  faces  that  passed  her,  in 
the  vain  hope  that  she  would  meet  Paul  Rexford.  Her 
©ne  thought  was: 

"  Oh,  Heaven,  if  you  could  only  show  me  some  means  oi 
escape!" 

She  had  never  committed  any  sin.  Yet  no  guilty  felon 
was  ever  hunted  down  more  cruelly  than  she  was.  Had 
Heavai  *io  mercy  on  her  that  she  was  so  cruelly  tried? 

At  every  corner  she  turned  Leonie  noticed  the  face  of 
the  man  who  had  handed  her  her  veil. 

44  He  is  a  spy  Charlie  Hart  has  set  upon  meift  watch 
me,"  she  gasped,  with  gudden  **m>r.  i  -uufcisfifl  BSOjf  Cfl 

I  333  <?  M...  ~ 


182  LBOKIE    LOCKE. 

Street  after  street,  and  block  after  block  Leonie  trod  he* 
way,  but  she  could  not  escape  the  man.  She  dared  makt 
no  outcry  to  the  police  for  protection,  she  must  outwit  him 
in  some  way.  She  would  not  go  home;  anywhere — any 
where  but  there. 

The  sun  went  down,  and  night  fell  over  the  city.  "Was 
it  fate  or  the  last  link  in  the  chain  of  ill  luck  that  was  clos 
ing  in  around  our  unhappy  heroine  that  bent  her  wander 
ing  footsteps  toward  Manhattan  Beach  that  starless  night? 
Oh,  who  can  tell! 

The  grand  hotels  were  silent  and  deserted,  and  the  closed 
rows  of  windows,  and  the  porches  where  gay  throngs 
promenade  in  midsummer,  were  quite  covered  with  snow 
drifts  and  the  shutters  creaked  to  and  fro  on  their  hinges. 
The  flowers  lay  dead,  and  the  pavilion  looked  dreary 
enough  in  the  waning  winter  night.  The  snow-drifts  had 
aiot  been  brushed  away  from  the  broad  plank  walk  that 
overlooks  the  sea — the  great  dark  sea,  rocking  itself  to  and 
iro,  and  sobbing  like  a  hungry  heart.  . 

Leonie  leaned  over  the  railing,  and  looked  down  into  the 
white-tipped  waves. 

*'  I  have  outwitted  this  man  who  has  been  dogging  my 
footsteps/'  she  sighed.  "  No  one  would  think  of  search 
ing  for  me  here.  I  will  stay  here  until — " 

Hark!  was  it  the  sound  of  stealthy  footsteps  stealing 
Boftly  behind  her  over  the  crispy  snow-drifts? 

A  few  of  the  gas-lamps  were  lighted  along  the  pier 
quite  far  apart;  not  for  the  sake  of  passengers,  few  people 
stopped  there  in  the  dead  of  winter,  and  the  lights  on  the 
pier  were  more  for  the  protection  of  vessels  sailing  along 
the  coast  than  for  anything  else. 

Leonie  raised  her  head  from  her  clasped  hands  that  were 
lying  on  the  cold  snow-covered  railing  and  listened. 

It  was  no  dream,  no  delusion,  a  dark  form  sprung  from 
the  shadows,  and  a  mocking  voice  cried  derisively  in  her 
ear:  '*" 


HEONIE    LOCKE.  133 

;*'  Am  1  mad,  or  do  my  senses  deceive  me?  What  can 
beautiful  Leonie,  the  petted  heiress  whom  society  worships, 
be  doing  in  this  isolated  place,  at  night  and  alone? 
Heavens!  how  fortune  favors  me;  we  shall  have  quite  an 
uninterrupted  tete-a-tete  alone  by  the  sad  sea  waves,  as  the 
song  goes  " — and  Charlie  Hart  (for  it  was  he)  made  a  low, 
mocking  bow  as  he  spoke,  and  his  hands  firmly  grasped 
the  cold,  icy  hands  lying  on  the  rail. 

"  Stand  back,  do  not  touch  me!"  she  cried,  "  or  I  shall 
throw  myself  over  this  railing  down  into  the  sea.  Yon 
have  hunted  me  down,  but  I  had  rather  die  than  live,  il 
your  face  was  to  darken  the  brightness  of  my  life." 

Charlie  Hart  laughed  a  loud,  boisterous,  blood-curdling- 
laugh  that  froze  the  blood  in  Leonie's  veins  as  she  heard  it, 
and,  with  a  thrill  of  horror,  she  noticed  by  the  flickering 
light  of  the  gas-lamp  that  his  face  was  greatly  flushed,  and 
his  bold,  black,  restless  eyes  shining  like  ebony  fires;  and 
there  were  fumes  of  wine  upon  his  hot  breath  that  scorched 
her  cheek,  as  he  leaned  nearer  toward  her,  with  a  diabolical 
leer  on  his  face. 

*'  You  have  no  doubt  learned  that  I  can  claim  you,  my 
lovely  bride,"  he  cried.  "  But  what  a  perverse  little  dar 
ling  you  are,  to  be  sure,  to  stand  out  so  bravely  and  defy 
me!  But  from  the  very  first,  your  deep-rooted  dislike  only 
made  me  the  more  anxious  to  tame  you  and  clip  your 
wings,  my  daring,  beautiful  queen.  The  more  desperate 
the  struggle  to  win  the  golden  prize,  the  more  a  man. 
prizes  it.  You  are  my  wife,  Leonie,  and  I  shall  never  let; 
you  leave  my  arms  again.  You  would  not  have  escaped; 
me  the  night  of  the  ball  if  it  had  not  been  for  that  fellow, 
who  stepped  between  us.  Curse  him!  I  shall  soon  settle 
with  him  for  it — I  would  kill  any  one  who  came  between 
as.  You  are  mine,"  he  repeated,  in  a  low,  hoarse,  mock 
ing  voice,  drawing  the  fatal  paper  from  his  pocket  that  she 
had  so  unwittingly  sjfifBefl.  and  waving  ^triumphantly,  ovet- 


i34  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

her  head.  No  wonder  the  sight  of  it  maddened  her  poor 
brain  and  made  her  desperate,  she  had  suffered  so. 

With  a  low,  frenzied  cry,  she  flung  off  the  hand  that 
clasped  hers,  and  made  a  desperate  dash  for  the  fatal  paper 
lie  held  up  so  mockingly  at  arm's  length.  She  had  always 
been  so  timid  and  shrinking,  he  was  taken  by  surprise. 
There  was  but  one  escape  for  her — only  one.  If  she  could 
wrest  the  paper  from  him,  she  would  be  free — free  to  defy 
•him!  It  was  a  matter  of  life  and  death  to  her. 

In  an  instant  he  seemed  to  collect  his  scattered  senses. 
Scarcely  realizing,  in  her  awful  frenzy  to  grasp  the  paper, 
she  was  pressing  him  back  against  the  railing  with  almost 
superhuman  strength,  while  he  seemed  nearly  paralyzed  at 
the  suddenness  of  the  attack. 

There  was  a  crash,  a  terrible  cry,  and  the  thin  boards 
that  formed  the  railing  parted,  and  Charlie  Hart  was  pre 
cipitated  down,  down  toward  the  seething  waters  that 
lashed  the  beach  in  their  relentless  fury,  with  the  paper  she 
had  periled  her  soul  in  the  most  horrible  of  crimes  to  wrest 
from  him  still  clutched  in  his  hand. 

The  thrilling,  awful  cry  of  '*  Murder!"  rang  out  on  the 
.-night  air,  quickly  followed  by  the  splash  of  a  heavy  falling 
body;  and,  in  the  awful  despair  of  that  terrible  moment, 
Leonie  realized  what  she  had  done.  She  had  hurled  him 
down  into  the  sea,  and  she  was  free! 

With  bated  breath,  Leonie  peered  down  into  the  dark, 
angry  waves. 

*'  I  did  not  mean  to  do  it,"  she  gasped,  "  but  he  drove 
me  to  it.  One  of  our  lives  would  have  ended  in  a  tragedy; 
what  does  it  matter  that  it  was  his  instead  of  mine?" 

But  she  had  not  wrested  the  paper  from  him,  and,  on 
the  morrow,  would  the  angels  up  in  Heaven  take  venge 
ance  upon  her  by  washing  his  dead  body  on  the  cold,  sandy 
shore,  with  the  paper  clutched  triumphantly  in  his  hand, 
that  would  tell  the  world  that  she,  Leonie  Locke,  had 
_, signed  a  contract  that  made  her  his  lawful  wife?  And 


LBOIHE  LOCKE:  185 

would  they  accuse  her  of  making  away  with  him?  Would 
the  paper  he  held  in  his  hand  point  to  her,  when  the  gray, 
angry  sea  cast  him  up,  as  a  terrible,  silent  witness  against 
her?  And,  as  Leonie  gazed  down,  as  if  fascinated,  into  the 
dark  depths,  suddenly  the  waves  parted,  and,  in  the  flick- 
ermg  light,  she  saw  his  white,  horrible  face,  and  the  piero 
jig  cry t of  "  Murder!"  rose  up  from  the  waves. 

A  hurried  step  was  answering  the  call.  It  was  too  late 
to  save  him;  but  she  would  be  discovered  there  and,  if  her 
very  life  had  depended  upon  it,  she  could  not  move  hand 
or  foot  to  fly! 

Nearer,  nearer  came  the  swift  footsteps,  and  again  the 
]K>rrible  cry  of  "  Murder!"  was  faintly  repeated. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

THE  morning  after  the  masked  ball  Dora  Lancaster  sat 
in  her  boudoir  twining  a  note  which  she  had  received  an 
hour  before  around  her  whi^e,  jeweled  fingers. 

A  low,  triumphant  laugh  burst  from  her  lips  as  she  slow 
ly  reread  it,  a  laugh  that  was  not  pleasant  to  hear. 

And  these  were  the  words  the  page  contained: 

"  Miss  LANCASTER, — I  am  delighted  to  inform  you  that 
our  plan  has  proved  entirely  successful.  1  wrote  out  the 
article  with  the  chemically  prepared  white  ink  (which  turns 
instantaneously  black  upon  being  held  over  the  heat  of  a 
lamp  or  gas-jet),  and  as  it  showed  no  trace  of  its  presencv 
/>n  tha  white  paper,  I  readily  obtained  Leonie  Lock's  signa 
ture.  She  thought  it  was  a  subscription-paper  she  was 
signing,  and  the  blow  nearly  killed  her  when,  after  obtain 
ing  her  signature,  I  held  it  up  to  the  light,  and  the  terrible 
olack  letters  flashed  out  in  bold  relief,  and  she  found  1 
had  duped  her  into  signing  a  contract  of  marriage  with 
me.  I  have  now  removed  her  effectually  from  yorr  path. 
Gordon  Carlisle  can  uot-filL  andJWO.  one  upon  whom  an- 


LBONIE    LOCKE. 

Other  has  claims.  TSo  two  lorers  were  ever  more  complete* 
Ij  sundered.  I  hare  successfully  carried  out  the  work  lot 
which  you  engaged  me;  and  now  in  regard  to  the  recom 
pense.  Five  hundred  dollars  is  altogether  too  small  a  sum 
for  removing  Leonie  Locke,  your  lovely  rival,  from  youi 
path;  I  must  have  five  thousand  for  it,  or  I  shall  go  to 
Gordon  Carlisle  and  confess  all  I  must  have  Che  money 
by  Wednesday. 

"Yours,  etc., 

"CHARLIE  HAST.  " 

4 'The  impertinent  wretch,"  cried  Dora  Lancaster,  hot. 
ly;  "  how  dare  he  call  upon  me  for  more  money!  but  1 
shall  have  to  pay  it,  I  suppose.  My  hated  rival  is  out  of 
my  path  forever;  thauk  fortune  for  that!  Heavens!  how 
Gordon  Carlisle  loved  that  girl/'  she  cried,  hoarsely,  cross 
ing  over  to  a  writing-desk  which  rested  on  a  table  of  pearl 
and  gold  in  the  furthest  end  of  the  room,  and  unlocking  it 
as  she  spoke  and  drawing  from  it  a  diary  which  bore  Gor 
don  Carlisle's  monogram  upon  it.  "  He  lavished  a  world 
of  love  upon  her,"  she  repeated,  hoarsely,  seating  herself 
in  the  crimson  velvet  arm-chair  again,  and  turning  the 
leaves  recklessly  with  her  jeweled  fingers. 

The  penciled  words  in  the  diary  Gordon  Carlisle  had  lost 
that  night  he  had  left  held  a  strange  fascination  for  her, 
and  every  word  roused  a  demon  that  was  slumbering  in 
Dora  Lancaster's  throbbing  heart,  and  these  were  the  words 
3he  read! 

"  The  beautiful  face  and  soft  appealing  dark  eyes  of  the 
young  girl  I  met  to-day  haunt  me.  Leonie  Locke — what 
a  beautiful,  fanciful  name  I  I  must  see  more  of  her;  when 
a  man  is  bewitched  by  a  pretty  girlish  face,  and  a  pair  of 
roguish,  sparkling  eyes,  what  does  it  matter  to  him  whethei 
she  is  a  working-girl  or  a  princess?'* 

\PAO\fO     I  iX.       M»  • 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  13? 

*•  I  have  searched  the  whole  city  tnrough  with  the  hope 
of  tracing  the  whereabouts  of  beautiful  Leonie,  but  it 
seems  to  be  useless;  1  could  have  loved  her  with  all  my 
souL  Oh,  fair  Leonie,  where  art  thou  now?'* 

The  next  was  replete  with  hope:  "  Fate,  or  rather  the 
merciful  hand  of  Providence,  has  thrown  Leonie  and  me 
together  again. "  Here  it  broke  off  suddenly,  and  the  next 
one  was  still  more  abrupt:  "  Leonie,  good  Mrs.  Stuart,  and 
I  have  had  the  kouse  all  to  ourselves  for  three  weeks,  and 
time  seems  to  flit  by  all  too  quickly.  How  young  and  in 
nocent  Leonie  is;  if  she  were  more  worldly  she  could  read 
my  great  love  for  her  in  a  thousand  different  ways.  How 
the  love  of  such  a  dainty  little  treasure  brightens  a  man's 
life.  I  shall  win  Leonie  for  my  wife  if  1  can.  My  advice 
to  every  young  man,  after  this,  will  be:  if  you  meet  a 
young  girl  like  Leonie  Locke  marry  her  at  once,  for  the 
love  of  such  a  darling  little  creature  is  heaven  upon 
earth." 

The  last  entry  was  made  upon  the  night  Gordon  Carlisle 
had  given  up  wealth,  position,  home  —  everything,  foi 
love's  sweet,  alluring  sake. 

"  It  is  all  over  between  father  and  me;  he  has  forbidden 
me  the  house  because  I  would  not  give  up  my  beautiful 
love.  But  a  still  greater  sorrow  was  in  store  for  me; 
Leonie  has  fled  rather  than  share  poverty  with  me.  Gold, 
gold,  sordid  gold — how  you  sway  the  hearts  of  women!  My 
heart  tells  me  there  is  some  terrible  mistake  somewhere.  I 
shall  never  rest  night  or  day  until  I  have  found  Leonie 
again  and  learned  the  truth  from  her  own  lips,  that  with 
the  loss  of  wealth  her  heart  grew  cold  toward  ma  Great 
God!  it  drives  me  mad  to  think  of  it;  yet  I  am  not  the 
first  man  that  has  been  befooled  by  a  beautiful  girlish  face, 
a  pair  of  dark,  winning  eyes,  and  a  tremulous  rose-bod 
mouth.  1  shall  find_Lea»ie  and  projr^Jber  love  for 


|88  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

There  was  an  irregular  dash  of  the  pencil,  and  here  thi 
pathetic  story  of  Gordon  Carlisle's  love-dream  ended. 

"  How  little  he  dreams  that  it  was  I  who  planned  thai 
affair,  and,  with  the  help  of  Charlie  Hart,  carried  it  out  so 
successf  idly.  I  have  put  Leonie  Locke  forever  beyond  his 
yearning  heart,  but  I  am  no  nearer  the  goal  of  my  ain- 
Jition — winning  Gordon's  love — than  I  was  before.  How 
»was  I  to  know  he  would  take  his  foolish  old  father  at  his 
firord,  quit  the  house,  and  take  up  his  abodo  at  a  hotel? 
We  are  drifting  further  apart  than  ever.  If  Gordon  was 
only  at  home  again,  thrown  more  into  my  society,  I  might 
have  more  chance  01  winning  him.  1  will  go  to  the  hotel 
again,  and  make  one  more  attempt  to  see  him.  I  believe 
that  porter  lies  when  he  says'  '  He  is  out,  miss/  every 
time  I  send  up  my  card.  I  will  see  what  virtue  there  is  in 
feeing  the  miserable  black  wretch,  to  find  out  what  time 
he  will  be  in.  Ah,  I  have  it — I  will  watch  for  him  when 
he  is  leaving.  I  shall  haunt  the  betel  like  a  spirit  until  1 
do  see  him." 

She  threw  the  diary  into  her  desk,  and  quite  thought 
lessly,  in  her  excitement,  tossed  the  note  Charlie  Hart  had 
written  her  beside  it,  forgetting  to  lock  the  desk  that  held 
such  strange  secrets  and  restore  the  key  to  her  bosom. 

"  What  is  beauty  for  if  one  can  not  win  the  heart  of  the 
man  whom  one  loves?"  she  cried,  fiercely,  pausing  before 
the  mirror  and  sc&nning  her  own  face  closely. 

It  was  rather  a  faded  Dora  the  mirror  reflected,  upon 
whom  the  sunlight  drifted  through  the  parted  curtains. 
The  pale-green  silk  dressing-robe,  although  it  was  filled  in 
at  the  neck  and  wrists  with  the  softest  lane,  made  her 
complexion  look  a  little  yellowish,  especially  as  she  was 
not <4  made  up  "  for  the  day,  and  her  pale  yellow  hair, 
still  in  its  white  curl  papers,  certainly  did  not  add  to  her 
appearance.  The  picture  did  not  satisfy  her. 

"  Why  do  men  love  dark-eyed  women  best?"  she  mused. 
*•  What  was  thereJ-tfTO**  tac&  of  Leonie  Locke  to 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  139 

aarry  the  heart  of  a  fastidious  young  man  like  Gordon 
Carlisle  by  storm?"  she  asked  herself,  fiercely.  "  Why 
did  the  poets  never  rave  of  passionate  blue  eyes?"  she 
never  remembered  having  read  such  a  sentence;  it  was  al 
ways  passionate,  soulful,  dark  eyes — glorious,  dark,  mag 
netic  eyes  that  swayed  the  hearts  of  men. 

The  glass  told  Dora  Lancaster  the  truth,  but  like  many 
another  woman,  she  would  not  believe  the  story  it  told. 
But  an  hour  later,  when  she  stood  before  the  mirror,  it 
was  certainly  a  fascinating  picture  it  reflected:  a  wiK 
lowy,  graceful  girl  in  a  crimson  plush  jacket  and  garnet 
skirt,  a  broad-brimmed  hat  and  drooping  garnet  plumes, 
and  a  soft,  dotted,  rose-colored  veil  over  the  pearl-pow 
dered  cheeks. 

4 'You  shall  learn  to  love  me,  Gordon  Carlisle/'  sh<5 
cried,  fiercely;  "  to  be  your  wife  has  been  the  golden  dream 
of  my  life.  I  have  never  looked  at  any  other  man,  I  was 
so  sure  of  winning  you;  and  do  you  think  I  will  stand 
tamely  by  and  see  Leonie  Locke's  babyish  face  steal  the 
heart  away  from  me  that  has  been  the  aim  of  my  life  to 
make  mine?  I  will  give  Charlie  Hart  the  five  thousand 
dollars,  but  he  must  agree  to  take  her  out  of  the  country. 
He  must  put  the  whole  wide  world  between  Gordon  Car 
lisle  and  Leonie  Locke.  If  he  does  not,  I  will  kill  her,  or 
worse — I  can  do  worse — I  can  spoil  her  beauty,  as  the  great 
French  actress  spoiled  the  glorious  beauty  of  her  rival  on 
the  stage  last  night;  and  it  was  a  glorious  revenge,  a  thou 
sand  times  more  thrilling  than  her  death  would  have  been. 
It  is  beauty  that  holds  the  hearts  of  men,  and  when  youth 
and  beauty  are  gone,  their  mad  passionate  love  lies  dead. 
What  man  could  love  a  hideously  distorted  and  seam- 
drawn  face,  with  shrunken  and  withered  lips?  Yes,  I  will 
strike  Leonie  Locke  through  her  glorious  beauty,  that  stole 
from  me  the  love  of  the  man  I  would  steep  my  soul  in 
the  blackest  of  crimes  to  win." 

Dora  Lancaster  had  matter*^  t.ha  Wo*ds  half  aloud,  aoj 


240  LEOKIE    LOCKE. 

Bt  that  self-same  instant  some  one  touched  the  guilty 
woman  on  the  arm,  and  the  jewel-case  she  held  in  her  hand 
fell  to  the  floor  with  a  crash,  scattering  the  flashing  jewels 
about  in  all  directions. 

How  long  had  she  been  standing  there?  What  had  she 
heard?  "  How  dare  you  come  in  upon  me  so  unceremoni 
ously?"  cried  Dora,  stamping  her  foot,  and  white  with 
rage.  "  What  brings  you  here,  anyhow?" 

Mrs.  Stuart,  the  housekeeper,  drew  back  in  affright  as 
she  said: 

"  I  knocked  twice,  but  you  did  not  hear  me.  Mrs.  Car 
lisle  says  to  please  come  to  her  room  at  once;  she  has  some 
thing  startling  to  tell  you." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

DORA  LANCASTER'S  red  lips  curled  scornfully,  as  Mrs. 
fitnart,  the  housekeeper,  repeated,  hurriedly: 

"Mrs.  Carlisle  wants  to  see  you  right  away,  miss:  she 
nas  something  startling  to  tell  you,  she  says.  If  you'll  let 
me,  I'll  help  you  pick  up  your  diamonds.  I'm  sorry  I 
frightened  you. " 

**  Hold  your  tongue,  will  you?"  commanded  Dora, 
sharply.  "I  don't  believe  you  rapped;  you  stole  in  as 
quietly  as  you  could,  to  see  and  hear  all  you  could." 

It  was  as  much  as  the  housekeeper  could  do  to  control 
herself,  she  felt  so  much  like  turning  around,  giving  Dora 
Lancaster  a  piece  of  her  mind,  and  telling  her  just  what 
she  thought  of  her.  Prudence  forbade,  however,  and  Mrs. 
Stuart  bridled  her  tongue. 

The  diamonds  were  soon  replaced  in  the  casket  and 
locked  in  the  dressing-case. 

"  I  would  like  you  to  arrange  those  flowers  hi  the  vase, 
and  put  the  screen  before  the  fire.  I'll  be  back  by  that 
time,"  said  Dora,  gathering  up  her  silken  skirts,  and 
irbisking  out  of  the 


LEOXIE    COCKB.  141 

She  left  Mrs.  Stuart  alone,  and  the  housekeeper  turned 
with  a  bitter  gleam  in  her  eyes  toward  the  rase  of  rare 

exotics  on  the  mantel. 

Aa  she  passed  the  writing-desk,  which  was  open,  the 
crumpled  note  Dora  had  tossed  into  it  caught  her  eye. 

Mrs.  Stuart  was  a  good,  honest  soul,  but,  being  a  woman 
and  a  descendant  of  Mother  Eve,  she  could  not  help  the 
streak  of  curiosity  that  was  bred  in  the  bone.  _^ 

"  Bless  me,  if  it  isn't  another  letter  from  Charlie  Hart!" 
she  gasped,  staring  down  at  the  note;  and,  as  Eve  was 
anxious  to  get  a  taste  of  the  apple,  Mrs.  Stuart  was  dying 
of  curiosity  to  get  a  look  at  the  letter.  "  There  is  some 
thing  amiss  here/'  she  muttered,  "  and  I  may  as  well  find 
out  what's  going  on."  And,  suiting  the  action  to  the 
word,  Mrs.  Stuart,  ensconced  her  ample  self  in  the  cush 
ioned  arm-chair,  and  proceeded  to  examine  minutely  the 
contents  of  the  desk. 

An  hour  and  a  half  had  passed;  still  Dora  had  not  re* 
turned,  and  Mrs.  Stuart,  hastily  transferring  a  package  of 
papers  to  her  bosom,  quitted  the  room. 

"  So  it  wac.  you,  Dora  Lancaster,  that  cheated  young 
Master  Gordon  out  of  marrying  that  poor,  pretty,  dimpled 
little  darling  he  was  so  fond  of.  The  Lord  bless  us!  if  I 
knew  where  Master  Gordon  was  I'd  go  to  him  this  minute 
and  let  him  know  the  whole  affair,  if  it  wasn't  for  bring 
ing  out  the  rascality  of  that  graceless  nephew  of  mine. 
Poor,  pretty  Leonie  Locke,  how  fond  she  was  of  Master 
Gordon!  The  Lord  intended  them  for  each  other,  just  as 
sure  as  the  sun  shines!" 

But  would  Fate  bring  them  together  or  drift  them 
apart,  as  so  many  loving  hearts  have  been  drifted— ah, 
who  could  tell? 

"  If  I  could  only  find  Leonie  Locke!"  cried  Mrs.  Stuart, 
"  I'm  sure  I  could  find  some  way  of  bringing  those  two 
lovers  together.  Ill  make  the  rounds  of  all  the  factories 
and  workshops  in  .£*»»»  Vftrk  r^fev  nntil  I  find  her,"  sha 


142  LB01OB    LOCKS. 

thought,  determinedly,  <eand  I'll  force  the  truth  from 
Charlie  Hart's  lips.  He  shall  make  a  clean  breast  of  thil 
whole  affair,  or  my  name  is  not  Abigail  Stuart!  Gordon 
shall  have  his  pretty  little  dark-eyed  love,  and  the  whols 
world  shall  known  the  villainous  scheme  the  haughty  heb> 
ess  dared  lend  herself  to  to  win  handsome  young  Gordon 
Carlisle/' 

Meanwhile  Dora  tripped  lightly  down  to  the  library 
where  Mrs.  Carlisle  awaited  her  in  the  utmost  impatience, 
pacing  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  You're  ready  for  a  drive,  I  see,  Dora,"  said  Mrs.  Car 
lisle,  stopping  short,  and  twisting  the  lace  handkerchief  she 
held  nervously  in  her  hand;  "  but  you  must  put  it  off,  my 
dear,  for  I  want  to  have  a  long  talk  with  you." 

"  I  guess  it  will  keep  until  after  I  return,"  replied  Dora; 
"  Fm  going  to  drive  over  to  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel,  and 
if  I  am  lucky  enough  to  find  Gordon,  I  shall  insist  upon 
having  him  return  with  me  to  lunch." 

"  I  have  just  dispatched  a  messenger  there  myself  foi 
Gordon,"  returned  his  mother.  "  1  have  just  made  a  very 
startling  discovery,  which  will  no  doubt  change  Gordon'* 
affairs  in  a  great  measure,  for  it  is  about  that  young  girl 
be  is  so  fond  of — pretty  Leonie  Locke." 

In  an  instant  all  the  blood  in  Dora  Lancaster's  veins 
seemed  turned  to  ice,  and  her  cheeks  paled  to  a  dead  white 
under  the  rose-colored  veil  and  the  rouge. 

Mrs.  Carlisle  was  looking  at  her  with  an  odd  light  in  her 
eyes,  and  an  expression  on  her  face  she  bad  never  seen  it 
wear  before. 

She  knew  she  must  say  something — it  was  expected  of 
her. 

"  Leonie  Locke,"  she  repeated,  with  a  shrill  laugh,  "  J 
am  sure  you  have  heard  nothing  particularly  favorable 
about  the  girl,"  and  her  voice  sounded  so  hoarse  and  un 
natural  she  was  frightened. 

Her  guilty  conflcjejiGe  needafLno  accuser.     A  miserable 


LEONIfi    LOCKE.  143 

fear  tnrflled  her  heart  Had  Gordon  found  the  girl  after 
all  and  married  her?  A  greenish  glare  terrible  to  see 
flashed  into  her  pale-blue  eyes  at  the  bare  possibility. 

To  give  our  readers  an  insight  into  the  true  state  of 
affairs,  we  must  inform  them  that  Charlie  Hart  had  been 
too  clever  to  inform  Dora  Lancaster  of  Leonie 's  escape, 
and  of  the  vigilant  search  he  had  instituted  to  discover  her 
whereabouts. 

Like  Mrs.  Stuart,  the  thought  had  occurred  to  him  to 
search  the  workshops  and  factories,  but  it  had  proved  3 
fruitless  task;  and  at  last,  cursing  his  luck,  he  was  about  to. 
give  up  the  search  when  fortune  favored  him;  he  saw 
Leonie  and  Mrs.  Barrett  alight  from  their  coach  one  day 
in  front  of  their  Lexington  Avenue  home. 

There  had  not  been  the  shadow  of  a  mistake — he  had 
jecognized  her  face  instantly. 

A  few  well-directed  remarks  to  the  coachman  elicited  all 
joe  cared  to  know;  and  fuming  with  intense  rage  at  the 
great  fortune  he  Had  missed,  he  entered  heart  and  soul  into 
Dora  Lancaster's  plan  of  separating  her  effectually  from 
Gordon  Carlisle,  and  by  some  bold  stroke  winning  the 
beautiful  golden  prize  for  himself. 

He  knew  nothing  of  Kate  Hardy's  attempt  on  Leonie's 
life;  it  had  been  kept  a  profound  secret,  for  the  managers 
of  the  road  had  kept  ic  from  the  papers. 

He  had  carefully  kept  all  knowledge  of  Leonie's  social 
position  from  Dora  Lancaster,  upon  whom  he  drew  for 
heavy  sums  each  week ;  declaring  he  held  Leonie  a  prisoner 
Ijafe  under  lock  and  key,  until  she  should  come  to  terms 
by  singing  the  marriage  contract,  which  had  been  the 
clever  scheme  that  had  originated  in  Dora  Lancaster's 
fertile  brain. 

And  as  Dora  sat  there  the  thought  flashed  across  her 
mind:  "  Had  Charlie  Hart  dared  betray  her  to  Gordon's 
toother?" 

"  Why  do  you  si^  staring,  at  mo  in  that  blank  fashion, 


144  taoirn  LOOKS. 

Dora?  Why  don't  yon  ask  what  the  startling  news  abort 
this  Leonie  is?"  asked  Mrs.  Carlisle,  gazing  into  the  girl's 
white,  startled,  guilty  face. 

"  I  thought  you  would  go  on  and  relate  it  of  your  OWB 
accord,"  replied  Dora,  in  that  same  intense  voice  thai 
Bounded  scarcely  human. 

"I  hare  had  a  caller  to-day,  and  you  could  scarcely 
guess  who  it  is,"  pursued  Mrs.  Carlisle. 

"  It  would  be  a  terrible  task  to  go  through  the  list  ol 
your  dear  five  hundred  friends^  be  kind  and  do  not  keep 
me  in  suspense.  "Was  it  Gordon?" 

"  Oh,  dear,  no.     I  just  told  you  I  have  sent  for  him/' 

*'  Perhaps  it  was  the  girl  we  were  just  speaking  of,  01 
some  one  whom  she  has  sent?"  said  Dora,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Wrong  again,"  laughed  Mrs.  Carlisle;  "  it  was  a  lady 
whom  1  used  to  meet  quite  frequently  in  society  last  sea* 
aon;  she  has  returned  from  Europe  but  a  few  months — 
Mrs.  Barrett,  the  lawyer's  wife/' 

"  Well,"  said  Dora,  vainly  trying  to  curb  her  intense 
curiosity,  "  what  does  she  know  of  the  working-girl  who  so 
boldly  attempted  to  entrap  your  son  into  marrying  herj?" 

"  Leonie  Locke  is  a  working-gh/no  longer,"  returned 
Mrs.  Carlisle,  slowly.  "  I  am  sorry  now  that  I  did  not  let 
the  boy  have  his  own  way,  for  Leonie  is  an  heiress  now 
worth  a  million  of  dollars  in  her  own  right;  is  not  that  as- 
founding  news,  Dora?" 

A  horrible  shrill  laugh  broke  from  Dora  Lancaster's  lipa 
"  The  grub  has  emerged  into  the  butterfly,"  she  said, 
scornfully.  "  I  do  not  believe  Mrs.  Barrett;  it  is  some 
trick  of  the  girl — some  scheme. " 

"  It  is  quite  true,"  declared  Mrs.  Carlisle.  "  My  friend 
Mrs.  Barrett  is  stopping  with  her;  it  is  a  wonderful  ro 
mance.  If  some  clever  novelist  were  to  hear  of  it,  the  story 
of  Leonie  Locke  would  create  an  intense  sensation — she 
would  find  herself  famous.  There  is  no  mistake;  Mrs 


LBOKIE    LOCKE.  14& 

Barrett  wears  LeomVs  portrait  in  a  locket;  it  is  her  face— 
J  saw  it  and  recognized  it  instantly/' 

"  It  is  false!"  cried  Dora,  springing  to  her  feet  and  fling 
ing  prudence  to  the  winds  in  the  intensity  of  her  excite 
ment,  "  all  false!"  she  repeated.  '*  She  is  not  living  h* 
Mrs.  Barrett's  Lexington  Avenue  home  in  New  York. 
She  is  living  right  here  in  Brooklyn,  1  say,  and  is  the  wife 
of  one  of  your  discharged  foremen,  Charlie  Hart  AIL 
heiress  J  bah!  1  wonder  that  you  could  have  given  credence 
to  such  a  wild  story  as  that.  The  girl  has  some  design 
upon  Gordon;  perhaps  she  has  instituted  a  suit  for  breach 
of  promise,  or  something  as  terrible,  and  this  Mr.  Barrett 
is  her  attorney,  and  sent  his  wife  around  to  glean  what  in 
formation  she  could?"  cried  Dora,  fairly  trembling  with 
excitement,  and  livid  with  rage,  as  she  sprung  from  her 
•Mt 

"  My  dear  Dora,  how  absurdly  you  talk/'  responded- 
Mrs.  Carlisle,  calmly;  "  lawyers  never  permit  their  wives 
fco  get  mixed  up  in  their  business  affairs.  Who  told  yon, 
Leonie  Locke  was  married  to  Mr. — Mr.  Hart?"  she  in 
quired. 

"Hart  told  me  so  himself/'  declared  Dora,  with  a 
thoughtless  slip  of  the  tongue,  "  or  rather  wrote  me  ta 
that  effect  this  very  day/'  she  panted. 


CHAPTER 

DORA  saw  instantly  that  she  had  made  a  terrible 
take. 

Mrs.  Carlisle  was  looking  at  her  in  the  utmost  astonish 
ment. 

"  Did  1  understand  you  to  say  that  a  foreman  from  our 
store— a  discharged  foreman — had  written  to  you?"  asked 
the  haughty  woman,  scarcely  believing  she  had  heard 
aright 


'      &  LB0HIE    LOCKE. 

Dora  was  altogether  too  clever  to  be  caught  in  that 
j/en  though  she  had  made  a  terrible  slip  of  the  tongue. 

"  That  is  just  what  I  said,"  replied  Dora,  coloring  to 
jfae  very  roots  of  her  pale  frizzes.  "  The  impudent  creature 
&ad  the  audacity  to  write  to  me  asking  if  I  would  use  my 
influence  to  have  him  reinstated  as  foreman  in  Lincoln  & 
Carlisle's  fur  emporium,  adding  in  the  postscript  that  he 
Itad  made  Leonie  Locke  his  wife  and  there  was  more  need 
than  ever  to  find  employment.  I  tossed  it  into  the  fire  and 
would  probably  have  never  given  the  letter  a  second  thought 
if  the  matter  had  not  been  brought  to  my  mind.  You  see, 
now,"  she  added,  triumphantly,  "  it  was  all  a  myth  about 
;*  million  of  dollars  being  left  to  the  girl  " 

"  I  really  can  not  understand;  there  must  be  some  mis- 
•£ake  about  it,"  declared  Mrs.  Carlisle  in  bewilderment. 
"  I  do  not  imagine  Mrs.  Barrett  capable  of  a  downright 
/alsehood.  1  should  be  more  apt  to  think  the  man  Hart 
had  imposed  upon  you.  I  shall  see  Mrs.  Barrett  at  a  re 
ception  the  last  of  this  week,  and  she  promises  to  bring  the 
young  girl  with  her,  and  then  we  can  see  for  ourselves 
where  the  mistake  lies.  Gordon  has  accepted  an  invita 
tion,  and  you  will  go,  of  course,  Dora,"  continued  Mrs. 
-Carlisle,  complacently. 

For  a  moment  the  room  seemed  whirling  around  Dora, 
her  heart  seemed  to  cease  beating  and  turn  icy  cold.  Gor 
don  had  accepted  an  invitation,  and  Leonie  Locke,  the  girl 
whom  she  would  have  thought  it  no  crime  to  murder,  to 
remove  her  forever  from  Gordon's  path,  she  would  be 
ihere  too. 

Had  Charlie  Hart  played  her  false? 

"  I'll  think  about  the  reception  and  let  you  know,"  she 
said,  drawing  on  her  gloves. 

"  Oh,  very  well,  just  as  you  please,  of  course,  my  dear 
returned  Mrs.  Carlisle,  turning  to  her  novel  again,  as  Dora 
'hurriedly  quitted  the  room. 

*'  1  will   see   Charlie  Hart  at  once,"    she    muttered, 


," 


LEONIE    LOCKE. 

fcoarsely,  "  and  if  I  can  find  that  he  has  deceived  me  about 
this  girl,  woe  be  to  him!"  She  knew  his  number  and 
drove  there  straightway. 

Private  coaches  in  that  locality  were  a  rarity,  and  the 
woman  who  answered  the  bell  of  the  grkn  red-brick  house 
with  closed  blinds,  looked  in  open-eyed  astonishment  at 
the  fashionably  dressed  young  lady  who  stood  on  the  steps, 
and  who  must  have  alighted  from  the  coach. 

"  I  would  like  to  see  Charlie  Hart  a  moment,  please,  if 
he  is  within/'  said  Dora,  haughtily. 

"  He  isn't  in,  miss,"  replied  the  woman,  eying  her  vis 
itor  curiously  from  under  her  heavy  eyebrows.  "  Mr.  Hait 
don't  work  any  more,  he's  a  gentleman  of  leisure  now,  and 
comes  and  goes  when  he  likes." 

"  Perhaps  you  can  give  me  the  information  I  want," 
said  Dora,  reading  the  woman's  face  carefully  in  one  swift, 
keen  glance.  "  I  will  make  it  worth  your  while  to  answer 
me  truthfully  a  few  questions. " 

"  La,  miss,"  replied  the  woman,  dropping  her  insolent 
tone  at  once  and  falling  into  a  whining,  wheedling  one. 
"  I'm  a  poor  body,  to  be  sure,  but  I'm  honest.  Why, 
Lord  bless  your  pretty  face,  I'll  answer  any  question,  or  as 
many  as  you  put  to  me.  Won't  you  step  into  the  sittin'- 
room?" 

"Thank  you,  no,"  said  Dora.  "I  prefer  remaining 
where  I  am.  I  suppose  you  live  in  this  house,  do  you 
not?"  she  inquired. 

"  La,  no,  miss,  this  is  a  club-house,  and  I  take  care  of  it 
for  the  young  gents,"  replied  the  woman,  grinning. 

"  But  Charlie  Hart  has  rooms  here,"  insisted  Dora. 

*'  Yes;  he  rooms  here,  and  takes  his  meals  out,"  ab 
sented  the  woman;  "  1  take  care  of  his  rooms." 

"  Ah!"  thought  Dora,  triumphantly;  "  this  woman  can 
tell  me  all  I  care  to  know. " 

She  took  a  five-dollar  gold  ;nio«*-fcvvu  fcer  purse  and  slip* 


_«*  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

ping  it  into  the  clumsy  hand  that  held  the  door-knob, 
asked: 

"  Is  there  not  a  young  girl  in  this  house  at  the  present 
moment  under  lock  and  key?  Do  not  mistake  the  motive 
that  prompts  the  question,  the  girl  I  speak  of  is  my  most 
bitter  foe.  A  great  load  would  be  lifted  from  my  heart  if 
J  knew  she  was  here  out  of  my  way.  1  came  here  to  ask 
this  question  of  Charlie  Hart,  but  you  can  answer  me  quite 
as  well."  sf 

"  There's  no  young  girl  here,  miss/'  declared  the  wom 
an.  "As  1  told  you  before,  it's  a  club-house.  *  The 
Working  Men's  Union  '  is  the  name  of  the  club.  No  wom 
an  except  myself  ever  comes  across  this  threshold.  Nor 
has  there  ever  been  a  woman  inside  this  house  for  five  years 
or  more.  You  can  depend  upon  what  I  say,  miss,  or  if 
you  doubt  my  word  you  can  take  a  look  through  the  rooms 
and  satisfy  yourself  that  I've  told  you  the  plain  truth." 

*'  I  believe  1  will  look  through  the  rooms  with  you," 
said  Dora,  white  to  the  very  lips  with  baffled  rage. 

Every  door  was  throw  open  in  turn  from  cellar  to  garret, 
even  Charlie  Hart's  rooms  were  opened  with  a  pass-key. 

.There  was  not  the  slightest  evidence  of  a  woman's  pres 
ence  there,  nor  in  fact  anywhere  about  the  house. 

She  had  been  sadly  tricked.  Leonie  Locke  was  not 
there. 

Charlie  Hart,  who  had  dared  demand  such  extravagant 
mms  of  money  from  her  under  pretext  that  Leonie  was 
iere,  a  prisoner,  had  deliberately  lied  to  her.  Yet  she 
3ould  not  expose  the  traitor's  villainy,  because  it  would 
only  betray  herself. 

A  horrible  fear  possessed  her  that  perhaps  t&ere  might, 
after  all,  be  some  truth  in  Mrs.  Barrett's  story. 

She  had  played  for  high  stakes;  was  she  to  lose  now? 

*'  You  are  very  kind  to  take  so  much  trouble  to  show  me 
aoout,"  said  Dora,  patronizingly;  then  she  turned  around 
suddenly  faced  th*  **»«w-hrowed_woman,  "  Could  * 


LBQBTIB    LOOKS.  143 

depend  upon  yon  in  a  matter  of  great  importance,  involv 
ing  the  strictest  secrecy?"  she  asked,  slowly.  "  I  will  pay 
you  handsomely  for  it.; 

"  I'm  very  poor/'  flsplied  the  woman,  significantly; 
"  and  poor  people  can  *  be  particular  as  how  they  turns  a 
nimble  penny.  If  you*fe  got  anything  on  hand  that  pays 
well  you  can  count  on  me,  and  you  can  depend  I'll  never 
drop  even  a  whisper  about  it " 

**  Very  well,  I  will  come  here  again  to-morrow  at  this 
time,  and  we  will  talk  the  matter  over.  You  will  suit  my 
purpose  exactly. ' ' 

A  moment  later  the  coach  whirled  away. 

"  How  deceitful  these  grand  ladies  are,"  muttered  the 
woman,  "  more  than  half  of  'em  lives  double  lives.  Some 
terrible  deed  is  in  her  brain,  but  what  need  I  care  if  she 
pays  well  for  the  job.  A  woman  who  calls  here  for  Charlie 
Hart,  the  worst  scamp  in  all  New  York,  can't  be  much, 
if  she  does  wear  diamonds  as  big  as  a  bird's  egg.'* 


CHAPTER  XXVIIL 

DORA  did  not  drive  direct  to  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  aa 
she  had  intended,  but,  on  the  contrary,  after  she  had 
crossed  the  Brooklyn  Bridge,  she  gave  the  order:  "To 
Lexington  Avenue." 

"  I  must  see  if  this  heiress  is  Leonie  Locke,"  she  cried, 
fiercely,  "  and  if  it  is,  it  will  be  a  bitter  struggle  between 
•us  for  Gordon  Carlisle's  love.  If  he  loved  her  when  she 
was  a  mere  nobody,  her  sudden  elevation  to  wealth  and 
position  would  not  lessen  it;  even  his  mother,  who  would 
have  rather  seen  her  handsome  son  lying  dead  at  her  feet 
than  wedded  to  a  working-girl,  has  changed  her  estimate 
of  her  when  she  hears  she  has  wealth. " 

As  the  coach  passed  the  office  of  one  of  the  leading 
dailies,  a  sudden  thought  occurred  to  Dora,  and  bidding 
the  driver  stop  she  entered  the  office. 


150  LEOKIE    LOCKE. 

The  papers  were  on  file  for  a  month  back,  and  toward 
ikese  Dora  made  her  way. 

She  remembered  that  the  criticism  of  the  French  play 
she  had  seen  appeared  in  the  columns  of  the  next  morn 
ing's  journal,  together  with  a  synopsis  of  the  incidents, 
laming  the  drug  which  the  great  actress  was  supposed  to 
have  used  to  mar  the  glorious  beauty  of  her  rival. 

Long  and  diligently  Dora  searched  the  file.  Was  fate 
conspiring  against  her?  It  was  not  there. 

*'  Perhaps  I  can  help  you  find  the  paper  you  are  search, 
ing  for?"  said  a  keen-eyed,  pleasant-faced  young  max* 
who  stood  near  her. 

"  Thank  you,  1  was  looking  for  the  paper  bearing  date 
of  the  16th  instant;  it  contained  a  few  society  notices  1 
would  have  been  pleased  to  see. " 

The  young  man  accommodatingly  stepped  to  the  desk. 

"  Have  you  a  paper  of  the  16th?"  he  asked,  carelessly; 
'*  it  seems  to  be  missing  from  the  file. " 

As  he  spoke  a  meaning  look  passed  between  him  and  the 
clerk,  and  immediately  the  paper  was  handed  out,  and  he 
handed  it  to  Dora  with  a  low  bow. 

4>  Thank  you,  sir, "  she  replied. 

Although  the  young  man  had  stepped  around  to  the 
other  side  of  the  room,  and  the  way  she  was  holding  the 
paper  was  quite  upside  down  from  the  position  in  which  he 
stood,  the  keen-eyed,  innocent-appearing  young  man  was 
watching  intently  which  column  she  was  searching. 

The  smile  that  flickered  a  moment  around  her  lipfc 
showed  him  she  had  found  what  she  wanted. 

She  read  it  carefully  through  twice. 

"  I  shall  be  sure  to  remember  the  name  of  the  drug 
now/'  she  told  herself,  passing  out  of  the  office. 

The  next  instant,  the  young  man,  who  was  one  of  the 
keenest  reporters  on  the  paper,  was  bending  over  the  col 
umns  which  had  attracted  the  stylish  young  lady. 

"  Society  notes;  .th«ra  is  nnOaina  of. the  kind  here/"  ho 


LEONIE    LOCKE,  5 

muttered,  "her  eyes  were  fastened  abont  midway  down 
the  third  column.  Ah,  here  I  have  it;  why,  she  has  torn 
&  slip  out  of  the  paper;"  a  line  or  so  of  the  article  was  miss 
ing,  the  article  which  referred  to  some  French  play. 

Hastily  procuring  another  paper  of  the  same  date,  h« 
quickly  discovered  the  missing  words,  which  were  as  follows: 

"  She  was  supposed  to  have  used  the  famous  French 
drug  A ,  whose  contact  with  the  human  skin  imme 
diately  shows  its  presence  in  deep  crimson  scars;  but, 
strange  to  say,  it  acts  in  this  manner  upon  the  human  skin 
only." 

In  a  moment  the  reporter  had  whipped  out  his  note-book 
and  jotted  down  the  incident,  together  with  a  full  descrip 
tion  of  the  pretty  young  girl  (who  had  been  so  interested 
in  that  strange  item),  from  the  tip  of  her  dainty  No.  2  kid 
boot  to  her  pale  frizzes  waving  coquettishly  beneath  the 
drooping  crimson  plumes. 

"  1  may  need  this  item  some  of  these  days,"  he  mut 
tered,  transferring  the  book  to  his  pocket.  "  A  fellow  can 
find  more  startling  incidents  if  he  hangs  around  the  office 
than  he  could  pick  up  in  a  week  tramping  up  and  down 
the  muddy  streets.  If  anything  does  come  of  this  affair, 
I'll  have  a  first-class  lead,  much  to  the  envy  of  the  rest  of 
the  drivers  of  the  quill. " 

The  young  reporter  laughed  and  whistled  softly  to  him 
self  as  he  walked  out  of  the  office,  sauntering  slowly  up 
Broadway,  telling  himself  "  he  must  run  across  some  start 
ling  sensation,  or  he  must  write  one  up,  making  it  out  of 
whole  cloth,  before  the  paper  went  to  press  that  night;  for 
the  paper  was  getting  dull  and  prosy  for  the  want  of  some 
spicy  scandal  involving  a  young  and  lovely  woman  and  ap 
enraged  jealous  husband  or  a  lover. 

Meanwhile  Dora  was  whirling  rapidly  up  Broadway,  and 
the  coach  stopped  once  more  before  a  large  drug-store  « 
few  blocks  from  Lexirurton  Avenue*  and  Dora  alighted.  It 


LXOXIE    LOCKE. 

was  just  at  tke  hour  of  noon,  and  there  were  no  customers 
in  ike  store. 

For  an  instant  Dora  wavered,  but  the  good  impulse  died 
as  the  beautiful  innocent  face  of  Leonie  Locke  rose  up  be 
fore  her. 

With  a  firm  step  she  walked  up  to  the  counter  and  called 
for  the  drug;  but  here  a  startling  dilemma  confronted  her 
the  clerk  would  not  let  her  have  it  without  an  order  from 
some  doctor.     The  disappointment  was  so  intensely  keen 
Bora  grew  white  to  the  very  lips. 

"  Have  the  drug  she  must,  at  any  cost/'  she  told  her 
self. 

The  clerk  was  young  and  impressible — she  would  try  all 
her  pretty  coquettish  blandishments  upon  him,  and  coax 
him  into  breaking  the  rules  and  letting  her  have  it 

"Won't  you  make  this  an  exceptional  case,  please?" 
persisted  Dora.  "  I  want  it  so  much — I  want  to  use  it  to 
touch  up  some  very  valuable  oil  paintings/' 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  refuse  you,  miss,"  replied  the  clerk, 
blushing  up  to  the  very  roots  of  his  hair  under  the  fire  of 
her  bright  eyes.  "  If  it  was  my  store  I  would  let  you  have 
it  in  a  minute.  Our  proprietor  is  very  strict  about  selling 
poisons  of  all  kinds.  I  never  heard  of  its  being  used  for 
that  purpose,  though." 

"  Very  few  of  the  old  masters  divulge  the  hidden  secrets 
of  their  art,"  laughed  Dora.  "  You  look  like  a  very  ac 
commodating  young  man,  and  I  do  not  see  how  you  can 
find  it  in  your  heart  to  refuse  me,"  said  Dora,  softly. 
•'  I'm  sore  I  will  never  let  any  one  know  if  you  would  only 
reconsider  and  let  me  have  it" 

The  pretty  little  white  jeweled  fingers,  from  which  the 
dainty  kid  glove  had  been  removed,  unconsciously  touched 
against  his  in  her  intense  eagerness,  and  the  thrilling, 
magical  touch  of  those  caressing  little  fingers  made  the 
blood  leap  throug^Jhe  bashful  young  clerk's  veins  like 
el/a^tric  fire.  - 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  153 

'"*  1  know  you  will  be  so  kind  as  to  please  let  me  have 
it,"  pleaded  Dora,  noticing,  with  a  thrill  of  exultation, 
that  he  wavered. 

He  was  young  and  easily  influenced,  as  many  another 
man  has  been  before  him,  by  the  sweet,  seductive  persua 
sions  of  a  beautiful,  willful  woman. 

He  knew  it  was  wrong  to  listen  to  her  entreaties,  but  he 
was  utterly  powerless  to  resist  her.  The  thrilling,  fasci 
nating  touch  of  those  fingers,  that  was  a  caress  in  itself, 
seemed  to  steep  his  senses  in  a  bewildering,  happy  maze. 

Hearts  that  are  young  are  not  supposed  to  be  crafty, 
world-hardened  and  soured  against  love's  sweet  thrill,  for, 
of  all  the  temptations  in  the  whole  wide  world,  there  is 
none  so  hard  for  a  man  to  resist  as  the  blandishments  of  a 
lovely  woman. 

"  You  will  get  me  the  drug?"  persisted  Dora,  and, 
scarcely  conscious  of  what  he  was  doing,  and  white  to  the 
very  lips,  without  another  word  the  young  clerk  obeyed. 

"  You  must  give  me  your  name  and  residence,"  he  said, 
bashfully,  handing  her  the  fatal  package. 

A  diabolical  idea  entered  Dora's  brain. 

"  Certainly/'  she  replied.  "  My  name  is  Leonie  Locke, 
aod  I  live  at  No.  — ,  Lexington  Avenue. " 

She  did  not  tarry  a  moment  longer  than  was  necessary, 
and  once  more  the  coach  started  off  at  a  rapid  pace. 

"  Leonie  Locke — what  a  beautiful  name!"  murmured 
the  drug-clerk,  penning  down  the  name,  with  a  smile  on, 
his  lips.  "  I  think  she  must  have  bewitched  me!"  he 
cried,  shudderingly.  '*  Heavens,  what  a  risk  I  have  run 
in  letting  her  have  that  drug!  If  it  was  to  be  done  over 
again,  I — 1  would  stand  out  against  her  entreaties.  What 
if  anything  should  come  of  it?  But  no;  what  a  fool  I  am 
to  give  myself  unnecessary  trouble  about  the  affair!  I  wilt 
try  and  forget  it." 

And  then  the  youmt  drnar-clerk  did  what  he  had  never 

I  333  S.  fJ-JnVr  I 


JB  4  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

done  in  all  his  life  before— poured  out  a  full  glasB  of  titt 
strongest  wine,  and  drained  it  at  a  single  draught. 

The  coach  rolled  along  at  a  rapid  rate,  and  Dora9  flushed 
with  triumph,  with  the  vial  hidden  securely,  leaned  hack 
among  the  cushions  planning  the  diabolical  deed  which  she 
was  so  soon  to  execute. 

"  I  must  manage,  by  some  means,  to  remain  overnightt 
n  the  house, "  she  muttered,  "  and  gain  an  entry  to  Leonie 
Locke's  room,  then  all  will  be  plain  sailing.  If  I  am  de 
tected  there,  I  can  make  some  kind  of  an  excuse.  Eest 
securely  in  your  beauty  to-day,  Leonie  Locke;  when  the 
morrow  comes  there  will  be  no  trace  of  it  left.  She  has 
brought  it  all  on  herself;  she  should  not  have  come  be 
tween  me  and  Gordon  Carlisle." 

When  the  heart  is  fired  by  the  horrible  pangs  of  jealousy 
there  is  no  depths  of  woe  that  can  equal  it;  all  tenderness 
of  heart  dies,  or  is  merged,  rather,  in  the  one  thought  of 
crushing  a  rival. 

The  sudden  stopping  of  the  coach  before  the  Lexington 
Avenue  mansion  cut  short  Dora's  thoughts,  and,  a  moment 
later,  she  was  seated  in  the  luxurious  parlor  awaiting  Mrs. 
Barrett. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

reader,  we  must  now  return  to  Leonie,  whom  we 
left  leaning  over  the  railing  in  breathless  excitement, 
gazing  down  into  the  dark  raging  sea,  while  the  winds  that 
lashed  the  angry  waves  into  a  seething  fury  took  up  the 
startling  cry  and  echoed  "  Murder." 

The  sound  of  rapidly  approaching  footsteps  recalled 
laconic's  scattered  senses,  and  in  an  instant  she  realized  th« 
danger  of  being  found  there. 

The  cry  died  away  over  the  wild  waste  of  water. 

"  No  one  could  save  him  now,"  muttered  Leonie,  as  she 
saw  that  he  did  not  rise  again*  1L  sod  the  dark  waters  caa 


LOCKE.  153 

not  whisper  to  the  world  of  the  horrible  secret  they  hold. 
He  can  never  claim  me  now.  I  am  free — free!" 

The  sound  of  rapidly  approaching  footsteps  sounded 
Bearer  and  nearer,  and  the  man  who  was  hurrying  to  the 
spot  in  response  to  that  terrible  cry,  caught  a  meteoric 
glimpse  of  a  beautiful,  white,  startled  face  that  vanished 
like  a  shadow  in  the  dense  darkness  of  the  starless  night. 

A  few  hours  later,  when  Leonie's  maid  entered  her  room 
to  replenish  the  fire,  she  stumbled  upon  a  dark-robed  figure 
lying  upon  the  lilies  of  the  carpet,  prone  upon  her  face. 

In  a  moment  the  maid  had  touched  the  gas-jet,  and  a 
flood  of  bright  light  illumined  the  scene. 

"  Oh,  dear!  oh,  dear!'  cried  the  girl,  kneeling  down  beside 
the  prostrate  form  with  a  look  of  consternation  and  terror 
on  her  face.  "It  is  Miss  Leonie,  she  has  been  gone  for 
two  whole  days,  and  what  could  have  happened  her  to  have 
come  home  like  this?  She  raised  the  slender  girlish  figure 
in  her  strong  arms  and  placed  her  upon  the  white  lace- 
draped  bed. 

In  a  moment  she  had  removed  the  long  dark  cloak  and 
dress  and  the  thin  kid  boots  that  were  quite  wet  through. 

"  Fm  sure  if  those  white  lips  could  open  and  speak  to 
me  they  would  say:  '  Let  no  one  know/  "  thought  the 
maid.  "Til  not  tell  'em  Miss  Leonie  came  home.  1 
shall  'tend  her  all  by  myself." 

At  that  moment  Leonie's  brown  eyes  flashed  wide  open, 
and  in  an  instant  she  had  sprung  from  the  bed  and  was 
eowering  at  the  girl's  feet 

'*  Oh,  I  did  not  mean  to  do  it,"  she  gasped,  clinging 
£ke  a  frightened  child  to  the  girl's  skirts,  *'  but  I  was 
driven  to  it.  You  must  hide  me,  Aimee — hide  me  where 
no  one  in  the  wide  world  can  find  me.  If  you  let  them 
find  me  I  will  fall  down  at  your  feet  and  die." 

The  girl  raised  her  again  and  placed  her  in  the  bed. 

"  Something  terrible  has  JttEttened.     She's  out  of  bet 


158  LEON  IE 

mind,  poor  dear/'  thought  the  girl  in  affright  "  I  mnsfc 
arouse  the  household  arid  send  for  a  doctor. " 

She  had  quite  unconsciously  uttered  the  words  alond, 
and  she  never  forgot  the  look  of  terror  that  leaped  into 
LeomVs  dark  eyes. 

"  I  am  not  out  of  my  mind,  Aimee,"  she  sobbed,  "  I — 1 
spoke  before  I  thought.  I  was  so  tired  I  must  have  fainted 
when  I  came  in.  Don't  call  any  one,  Sit  down  beside  me, 
I  am  afraid  of  being  left  alone. " 

Aimee  sat  down,  but,  like  all  the  shrewd  maids  of  hex 
nationality,  she  readily  divined  that  something  greatly  out 
of  the  usual  order  of  events  had  transpired. 

"  Has  Professor  Rexford  called  since  I  was  away?" 
asked  Leonie,  eying  the  girl's  face  wistfully  with  her  large 
dark  eyes. 

"  No,  miss,  but  he  sent  a  note  to  Mrs.  Barrett,  saying 
that  it  was  impossible  to  come  for  a  few  days,  as  he  had 
some  important  business  to  transact  out  of  the  city. " 

Was  it  only  fancy,  or  did  a  sigh  of  regret  escape  from 
Leonie's  lips? 

"  I  must  not  tell  her  about  the  letter  he  sent  by  a  mes' 
senger,"  thought  the  girl;  "  for  it  was  particularly  stated 
in  the  note  he  sent  to  me  that  I  must  not  put  it  into  her 
hands  before  Wednesday  morning. " 

"  Mrs.  Barrett  told  many  of  the  callers  that  you  would 
be  home  to-day,"  pursued  the  maid;  "but  there  was  on$ 
young  girl  who  declared  she  was  going  to  stay  here  untD 
you  came.  She  was  so  bold  she  actually  walked  into  this 
room  last  night,  and  when  she  saw  me  sitting  here  she  pre 
tended  she  had  mistaken  it  for  her  own.  The  reason  1 
know  she  is  telling  an  untruth  is,  she  has  made  the  same 
mistake,  as  she  calls  it,  whenever  she  has  had  an  oppor 
tunity." 

Leonie  was  tossing  restlessly  on  her  pillow,  paying  little 
heed  to  the  story;;1' 

"  I  must  give  her.  a  Quieting  draught,  and  after  she  has 


LXOfflE    LOCKE.  15? 

6  good  sleep  she  wfll  be  all  right/'  thought  Aimee,  and 
suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  she  forced  a  few  drops  of 
valerian  between  the  white  lips,  and  a  few  moments  after 
Jjeonie  dropped  to  sleep. 

Aimee  put  away  the  damp  shoes,  and  turning  the  gas-jet 
tow,  and  placing  the  thick  dark  cloak  before  the  fire  to 
dry,  she  was  just  about  to  quit  the  room  when  the  knob  ef 
the  door  turned  with  a  subdued  low  click,  and  through  the 
aperture  glided  the  white  figure  of  a  woman. 

Aimee  stood  among  the  shadows  and  watched  her  curi 
ously,  muttering  to  herself: 

"  She  must  be  a  somnambulist,  yet  she  can't  be  asleep, 
for  her  eyes  are  as  wide  open  as  mine  this  very  minute." 

Dora  Lancaster  (for  it  was  she)  paused  for  an  instant  in 
the  center  of  the  apartment,  and  cast  a  swift  keen  glance 
around  her,  and  detected  the  faint  outlines  of  the  slender 
girlish  form  resting  upon  the  lace-draped  couch. 

"  Here  at  last,"  she  muttered,  clinching  her  white  hands 
deep  into  the  folds  of  her  dress,  as  she  glided  swiftly  toward 
the  bed,  with  a  devilish  gleam  in  her  steel-blue  eyes. 

Leonie  lay  with  her  head  resting  upon  her  plump 
rounded  arm,  a  beautiful  picture,  with  her  soft  brown 
curls  lying  over  the  pillow,  the  damp,  short  locks  in  baby 
ish  rings  on  her  white  forehead,  and  her  long  dark  lashes 
against  her  marble-white  cheek. 

If  it  had  not  been  for  her  breathing,  which  stirred  the 
frills  of  lace  on  her  bosom,  she  would  have  looked  like  a 
statue  carved  in  marble. 

No  warning  of  the  awful  danger  that  menaced  her 
flitted  through  her  dreams. 

'*  It  is  she,"  cried  Dora,  hoarsely.     "  I  could  end  her 
life  here  and  now,  but  my  revenge  will  be  a  thousand  times 
more  glorious  to  see  her  pretty  face,  that  has  won  Gordon 
Carlisle  from  me,  scarred  and  senmedf  _and  if  that  fails  to 
turn  Gordon's  love  from  her,  I  shall  make  terms  with  that 


158  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

woman  to  carry  out  iLe  plan  I  have  so  ingeniously  thought 
out." 

As  Bhe  spoke  she  drew  the  vial  from  her  breast,  and  held 
it  up  toward  the  dim  gas-light. 

It  seemed  to  emit  a  thousand  brilliant  rainbow  hues  of 
sparkling  splendor. 

"  How  fascinatingly  beautiful  dangerous  things  usually 
are/'  she  muttered,  with  a  hoarse  laugh.  "  Who  would 
think  these  sparkling  grains  could  seam  and  scar  a  beauti 
ful  face  into  repulsive  ugliness?" 

Love  and  jealousy  had  led  to  a  terrible  revenge. 

Another  moment  and  she  had  uncorked  the  vial,  holding 
it  close  to  Leonie 's  face. 

"Take  that,  Leonie  Locke!"  she  hissed.  "You  have 
tasted  the  sweets  of  Gordon  Carlisle's  love,  and  now  I  shall 
taste  to  tb<j  full  the  sweets  of  revenge!" 

The  brilliant  powder  flashed  in  the  dim  light  and  flut 
tered  down  like  a  drift  of  snow;  but  at  that  thrilling  mo 
ment  the  hand  of  Heaven  interfered;  Leonie  turned  her 
head  restlessly,  and  the  powder  fluttered  down  upon  the 
pillow,  where  but  a  moment  since  her  soft  cheek  bad 
pressed. 

With  a  shriek  of  baffled  rage,  Dora  Lancaster  sprung 
forward. 

"You  shall  not  cheat  me — I  will  kill  you  first!"  she 
screamed,  hoarsely,  snatching  the  pillow  with  the  intention 
of  burying  the  beautiful  face  beneath  it;  but  a  strong  arm 
hurled  her  back,  and  Aimee,  the  faithful  maid,  sprung  be 
tween  Dora  and  her  innocent  victim,  and  Dora  recoiled  just 
in  time  to  escape  receiving  the  full  force  of  the  drugged 
pillow  upon  her  own  face. 

The  noise  and  confusion  aroused  Leonie. 

"  They  have  come  for  me!"  she  gasped,  as  she  saw  the 
two  struggling  figures  swaying  to  and  fro  in  the  dim,  un 
certain  light. 

In  imagination  she  conld  see  the  rigid  body  that  the 


LBOSTE    LOCKE.  159 

waves  must  have  east  up,  with  the  terrible  paper  clutched 
triumphantly  in  his  hand  that  gave  out  to  the  world  she 
was  a  wife;  and,  with  an  appealing  cry  to  God  and  the 
Angels  to  save  her,  Leonie  fell  back  in  a  deadly  swoon. 

In  moments  of  the  most  thrilling  danger,  hardened 
criminals  display  the  most  heroic  coolness  and  courage. 

Dora  Lancaster  had  counted  the  cost,  and  had  planned 
what  she  should  do  in  a  case  of  emergency,  should  she  be 
discovered  in  her  attempt  to  gain  an  entrance  to  Leonie's 
apartments. 

Quick  as  thought  she  executed  her  clever  plan.  She 
gave  a  little  suppressed  scream,  gazing  around  her  with 
well-simulated  surprise.  "  Oh,  where  am  I?"  she  cried, 
in  pretended  bewilderment,  clasping  her  white  hands. 
"  Oh,  I  am  in  somebody's  room!  I — I — pray  you  will  for 
give  me — my  old  habit  of  sleep-walking  must  have  come 
over  me." 

By  this  time  Aimee  had  turned  on  the  gas,  and  a  brill- 
iantf  flood  of  light  illumined  the  room. 

Cleverly  as  Dora  had  carried  out  her  little  game,  she  had 
not  succeeded  in  deceiving  the  clever  French  maid.  She 
took  in  at  a  glance  the  exact  situation. 

"  I  have  heard  of  people  walking  about  in  their  sleep 
many  a  time  before,"  whispered  the  girl,  significantly, 
l<  but  I  have  never  heard  of  a  somnambulist  doing  what 
you  tried  to  do  to-night,"  she  added. 

"  Why,  what  did  I  try  to  do?"  said  Dora,  in  pretended 
Bonder. 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  replied  the  girl,  in  a  low,  intense 
*vhisper;  f  4  you  tried  to  murder  Leonie  Locke  1" 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

"  You  impudent  creature!  how  dare  you  intimate  such  a 
terrible  thing?"  gasped  Dora  Lancaster,  fairly  hVid  with 
rage. 


160  LBONIE    LOOKB. 

•'  It  is  tree/'  repeated  the  girl,  stolidly;  "  yon  tried  v 
murder  Leonie  Locke  with  the  contents  of  the  vial  yon 
have  there  hidden  in  your  bosom." 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  could  do  with  you  for  making 
such  a  threat?"  cried  Dora,  gliding  up  close  to  her,  so 
near  that  her  hot  breath  scorched  the  girl's  cheek. 

"  "No  matter  what  you  could  do,  I  would  stand  my 
ground,  and  let  the  whole  wide  world  know  what  you  have 
tried  to  do,"  cried  the  girl,  defiantly. 

"  I  see  that  1  can  not  convince  you,"  replied  Dora, 
changing  her  tactics;  "  but,  although  you  seem  to  be  un 
friendly  toward  me,  I,  on  the  contrary,  have  taken  a  great 
fancy  to  you,  my  good  girl,  and  to  one  whom  I  like  I  am 
very  liberal — it  is  my  nature.  I  am  going  to  make  you  a 
little  present,  my  dear  girl,  but  you  must  never  tell  when 
or  why  I  gave  it  to  you,  for  I  would  not  let  any  one  know 
for  the  whole  wide  world  that  I  have  a  habit  of  walking  in 
my  sleep  and  doing  strange  unaccountable  things.'* 

As  she  spoke,  she  slipped  a  magnificent  diamond  ring 
from  her  finger,  placing  it  in  the  girl's  rough,  toil-hard 
ened  brown  palm. 

"  Will  you  take  it  and  promise  me  this  shall  be  a  dead 
secret  between  us?"  she  whispered,  keenly  watching  the 
girl's  face. 

There  are  few  maids  that  can  withstand  a  persuasive 
argument  of  that  kind,  and  Dora  knew  it  well. 

The  diamond  glowed  like  a  miniature  rainbow,  sparkling 
brightly  in  the  gas-light. 

There  are  women  that  possess  the  deadly  magnetic  fasci 
nation  of  a  serpent,  and  Dora  was  one  of  them;  she  held 
the  girl  spell-bound  under  her  cool,  keen,  steady  eyes. 

Dearly  as  the  girl  loved  Leonie,  the  glittering  diamond 
overcame  her  scruples. 

"No  one  shall  ever  know,  I — promise  you,"  she  an 
swered,  slowly. 


LBONIE    LOCKE.  16] 

"  Thank  you,  be  my  friend,  and  yon  will  loee  nothing,'5 
eaid  Dora,  significantly. 

She  gathered  up  her  trailing  silken  robe  over  her  arm, 
and  glided  toward  the  door. 

On  the  threshold  a  sudden  thought  occurred  to  her,  ana 
she  stopped  short. 

"  The  girl  knows  too  much,  she  must  be  made  away  with, 
too,"  she  muttered,  under  her  breath. 

She  beckoned  the  girl  to  her,  and  whispered,  quickly: 

"  I  would  like  to  have  a  long  confidential  interview  with 
you  to-morrow;  can  you  come  to  me  to  Brooklyn?" 

"  Yes,  if  Miss  Leonie  can  spare  me/*  replied  Aimee, 
blushing. 

"  She  must  not  know,"  returned  Dora,  quickly. 
"  Come  alone.  You  can  not  miss  the  place,  it  is  a  lonely 
red-brick  house,  standing  quite  apart  from  the  rest,  on  the 
banks  of  the  river." 

The  precious  diamond  which  Dora  had  given  her  quite 
threw  her  off  her  guard,  and  she  readily  promised. 

"  Put  that  pillow  under  that  young  girl's  head/'  she 
said,  motioning  carelessly  to  the  pillow  lying  on  the  velvet 
carpet. 

Another  moment  and  Dora  had  gained  her  own  room, 
and  it  was  not  until  then  that  she  gave  full  vent  to  her  ter 
rible  rage. 

*'  More  beautiful  than  ever,"  she  cried,  tearing  the  lac« 
handkerchief  she  carried  into  shreds,  "  she  seems  to  have  a 
charmed  life.  I  must  have  more  of  the  same  drug.  I 
shall  not  fail  the  next  time,  rest  assured. " 

She  threw  herself  down  into  a  cushioned  chair  by  the 
grate,  and  all  through  the  long  hours  of  the  weary  night 
thought  over  plots  and  plans  against  the  beauty  and  hap 
piness  of  Leonie  which  were  to  bear  fruit  on  the  morrow. 

The  sun  was  shimnp;  when  Leonie  opened  her  eyes  thfl 
aext  morning.  Aimee -was  movinar  about  the  room,  and 


LEONIE    LOCKS, 

there  was  no  risible  trace  of  the  events  of  the  previous 
night  which  have  just  been  narrated. 

-*  It  must  have  been  a  dream/'  thought  Leonie,  burying 
j,ier  face  in  the  lace  pillows.  Then  suddenly  her  thoughts 
flashed  back  to  Charlie  Hart.  A  moment  later  the  maid 
was  startled  by  a  piteous  cry  which  brought  her  at  once  tr 
Leonie's  side. 

"  IB  that  the  morning  paper  on  the  table?"  she  asked-, 
and  her  voice  sounded  so  hollow  and  so  dreary  it  almost 
seemed  to  Leonie  that  the  words  had  been  spoken  by  other 
lips.  "  It  would  be  sure  to  be  in  the  morning  papers/' 
she  gasped. 

The  girl  handed  her  the  paper;  but  her  hand  trembled 
so  the  letters  fairly  danced  before  her  eyes. 

"  Let  me  read  it  for  you,  Miss  Leonie,"  said  the  girl, 
noticing,  with  amazement,  how  nervous  she  was.  "  I  wil) 
bring  your  dressing-robe  and  slippers,  and  you  shall  sit  ID 
this  cushioned  chair  by  the  grate  while  I  read. " 

Leonie  suffered  her  to  robe  her  in  the  pretty  pale-blue 
cashmere  gown  with  its  soft  lace  ruffles  and  satin  bows, 
and  the  dainty  slippers,  curbing  her  impatience  as  well  as 
she  could.  She  clasped  her  hands  so  tightly  that  the  ten 
der  skin  was  bruised,  so  keen  was  her  terrible  suspense  to 
know  whether  Charlie  Hart's  body  had  been  recovered  or 
not,  and  if  the  paper  had  been  found  clutched  in  his  hand. 

"Read  the  *  locals'  first,"  she  said;  and  Aimee  took 
up  the  paper,  slowly  reading  the  column  through. 

Yes,  it  was  there!  Early  that  morning  the  body  of  ai 
unknown  man  had  been  found  upon  the  beach,  washed  up 
by  the  tide.  It  had  been  sent  to  the  Morgue  for  identifi 
cation.  "And/'  continued  the  paragraph,  "near  the 
body  was  found  a  parchment  bearing  the  imprint  of  a 
man's  hand.  The  salt  water  has  nearly  obliterated  the 
writing;  but  it  has  been  given  over  to  the  authorities,  and 
be  put  under  a  microscopical  examination. " 

The  girl  glanced  up  from  the  paper.    Leonie  lay  back  io 


LEONIZ    LOCKE.  108 

faer  chair  in  a  dead  swoon,  and  it  was  not  until  every  effort 
had  been  made  to  restore  her  to  consciousness  that  the 
maid  was  at  last  successful 

Leonie  had  no  appetite  for  the  bit  of  broiled  bird  and 
buttered  muffins;  she  pushed  them  away  un tasted. 

The  blow  had  fallen,  but  not  in  the  way  she  had  ex 
pected.  She  was  free  from  Charlie  Hart,  but  the  angels 
bad  taken  vengeance  upon  her  for  what  she  had  done  by 
casting  up  that  fatal  paper — which  would  be  such  a  silent 
witness  against  her — on  the  waves.  What  would  they  do 
with  her  if  they  knew  all?  These,  and  a  thousand  other 
thoughts,  whirled  through  her  brain,  making  her  weak  ai»d 
dizzy  and  wofully  heart-sick. 

A  feeling  of  sharp  remorse  stirred  the  girl's  heart,  as  she 
thought  of  the  promise  she  had  given  to  keep  the  terrible 
secret  she  held  from  Leonie. 

"  Why  had  Miss  Lancaster  striven  so  hard  to  destroy 
her?"  she  asked  herself,  as  she  looked  at  the  beautiful, 
bowed  curly  head  resting  on  the  little  white  hands.  "  1 
will  give  her  back  the  ring,"  thought  the  girl,  "  for  it 
eeems  like  a  mill-stone  around  my  neck.  1  have  given 
my  word  to  keep  this  dark  secret,  and  1  can  not  go  back 
on  it.  But  there  is  one  thing  I  can  do:  I  can  watch  over 
pretty  Miss  Leonie,  and  see  that  no  ill  befalls  her,  for  that 
yellow-haired  woman  is  a  fiend  incarnate!  She  can't  fool 
me.  She  intended  to  murder  Leonie  Locke.  Somnam 
bulists  never  carry  vials  hidden  away  in  their  bosoms." 

"  I  must  make  the  more  effort  to  see  Paul  Rexford/' 
thought  Leonie,  "  and  if  I  fail  the  next  time,  then  I  will 
go  to  Gordon  Carlisle  and  tell  him  the  whole  horrible 
story.  He  was  kind  to  me  once,  and  he  would  advise  me 
now  and  keep  the  pitiful  secret  to  the  bitter  end." 

No  thought  ever  occurred  to  her  of  making  a  confidant 
of  Lawyer  Barrett  or  his  worldly  wife.  How  they  wonl3 
turn  from  her  in  horror  and  loathing  if  she  told  them  sbt 
had  pushed  down  into  the  dark,  hungry  sea  a  man  who  had 

IMF  rn  1 


LEOKIE    LOCKE. 

driven  her  to  the  verge  of  madness  and  despair,  more  cruel 
to  hear  than  death  itself. 

In  moments  of  darkest  sorrow  her  hungry  heart  had  al 
ways  turned  to  Gordon  Carlisle,  or  Paul  Bexf  ord,  as  the 
needle  of  the  magnet  turns  to  the  pole. 

Before  Aimee  had  time  to  execute  her  thoughts,  the  door 
which  was  standing  ajar  was  opened  softly.  There  was  a 
taint,  delicate  odor  of  white  rose  and  a  rustle  of  silken, 
robes  trailing  over  the  velvet  carpet,  and  the  next  moment 
two  arms  were  twined  around  Leonie's  neck. 

"  You  darling  girl!"  cried  Dora  Lancaster,  flashing  a 
warning  glance  at  Aimee  and  making  a  sign  for  her  to  quit 
the  room.  "  I  have  discovered  you  in  your  fancied  secure 
retreat  at  last,  and  I  could  not  stand  upon  ceremony.  I 
told  Gordon  I  must  come  and  see  you  at  once.  Words  do 
not  express  how  pleased  I  am  at  your  good  fortune,"  chat 
tered  Dora,  drawing  up  a  chair  close  to  Leonie's  side.  "  I 
hope  you  will  pardon  me  for  intruding  into  your  private 
boudoir,  but  we  are  such  very  old  friends,  I  knew  you 
would  not  mind,"  Dora  went  on,  softly. 

"  This  is  the  power  of  riches,"  thought  Leonie,  looking 
at  her  in  wonder.  "  When  I  was  a  poor  working-girl  how 
cruelly  she  abused  me,  and  now  that  she  knows  of  my 
wealth  she  calls  me  her  friend."  Still  Leonie  greeted  he/ 
kindly. 

Leouie  had  little  need  to  be  surprised.  She  little  knew 
it  was  the  way  of  the  world  to  be  weighed  in  the  balance 
ef  wealth,  and  to  be  found  wanting  was  one  of  the  blackest 
of  crimes. 

But  Leonie  was  such  a  good-hearted,  clever,  unsuspi 
cious  little  soul  she  was  quite  willing  to  let  by-gones  be  by 
gones;  yet  she  could  not  quite  control  the  quivering  throb 
that  thrust  her  heart  like  a  knife  as  she  remembered,  "  if 
it  had  not  been  for  Dora,  Gordon  Carlisle's  love  might  have 
been  hers.  Still,  all  kbit  beautiful  love-dream  was  over 


\ . 
"LBOIOE    LOCKE.  165 


;  she  must  put  it  away  from  her  heart,  and  try  to  like 
Dora  as  well  as  she  could  for  Gordon's  sake." 


CHAPTER  XXXL 

"  I  SHALL  be  very  pleased  to  be  friends  with  yon,  Miss 
Lancaster,"  said  Leonie,  gazing  frankly  into  the  face  oi 
the  beautiful  guilty  girl  sitting  beside  her.  "  I  quite 
thought  that  you  did  not  like  me." 

"  Why,  because  you  had  such  a  charming  flirtation  with 
Gordon?"  asked  Dora,  with  a  little  laugh. 

"  Flirtation!"  how  the  word  jarred  upon  Leonie 's  sen 
sitive  soul.  She  had  given  Gordon  Carlisle  all  tke  pure, 
sweet  love  of  her  girlish  heart,  during  those  never-to-be- 
forgotten  days,  and  he  had  told  Dora  it  had  been — only  a 
flirtation. 

No  reply  came  from  Leonie's  lips,  and  Dora  went  on 

gayly: 

44  We  shall  be  none  the  worse  friends  for  that,  Leonie; 
for  I  know  you  cared  no  more  for  Gordon  than  he  did  for 
you." 

Should  she  tell  Dora  Lancaster  the  story  of  that  broken 
love  dream?  the  impulse  within  her  was  strong  to  tell 
Dora  all. 

She  arose  and  stood  before  her,  her  white  hands  working 
nervously  together,  and  a  pain  in  her  dark  eyes  that  was 
touching  to  behold. 

"  I  shall  try  and  be  your  friend,  Miss  Lancaster,"  she 
said,  slowly;  "  but  I  can  never  visit  you,  never." 

"  1  am  so  sorry,  but  perhaps  you  know  best,"  replied 
Dora,  sweetly.  "  I  had  hoped  though  to  persuade  you  to 
l»e  one  of  my  bride-maids;  I  am  soon  to  be  married,  you 
know,"  she  continued,  maliciously.  She  saw  Leonie's 
face  paie  to  a  dead  whiteness,  and  she  went  on,  gayly: 
*'  Perhaps  your  own  wedding  would  be  the  next  hi  order 


166  LEONIE    LOCKE, 

Mrs.  Barrett  tells  me  yon  are  a  great  favorite  among  tin 
bwaus. " 

One  thought  was  whirling  through  Dora's  busy  brain: 
she  must  find  out  whether  Leonie  had  met  Gordon  Carlisle 
since  the  night  she  had  so  unceremoniously  quitted  his  fa 
ther's  roof,  or  not.  She  was  satisfied  beyond  all  shadow  ol 
d  dou  jfc  that  Leonie  still  cared  for  him. 

How  Leonie  longed  to  ask  Dora  if  Gordon  knew  the 
strange  romantic  story  of  her  sudden  wealth. 

"  You  did  not  tell  me  how  you  knew  I  was  here/'  said 
Leonie,  eagerly,  adding,  hesitatingly:  "  Do  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Carlisle — and — and  their  sou — know  of  it?'* 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Dora,  shaking  back  her  golden  curls 
as  she  laid  her  hand  on  Leonie's  arm;  "  but  you  must  for- . 
give  me  for  saying  something  very  unpleasant;  yet  for 
your  own  sake  I  must  put  you  on  your  guard.  No  matter 
how  much  wealth  was  yours,  Gordon  and  his  parents  can 
never  forget  you  were  once  a  working-girl,  and  '  not  to  the 
manner  born. '  " 

All  the  beautiful  color  died  from  Leonie's  face.  How 
innocent  Dora  looked  as  she  willfully  breathed  that  wicked 
falsehood,  and  the  sudden  pain  in  the  dark,  velvety  eyes 
raised  to  her  own,  showed  her  that  the  cruel  arrow  had 
ss/uck  the  girl's  heart. 

"  Yet,  knowing  this,  you  have  asked  me  to  be  one  of 
your  bride-maids!"  said  Leonie,  with  fine  scorn  and  bitter 
contempt.  "  I  can  not  understand  why  you  did  that. 
Mr.  Carlisle  need  have  no  fear;  I  shall  never  cross  hia 
threshold  again.  I  would  never  have  let  them  know  where 
Hived." 

"  Mrs.  Barrett  was  our  informant;  she  is  quite  a  friend 
of  Gordon's  mother,"  said  Dora,  tapping  her  dainty  heels 
against  the  polished  fender.  "  I  really  liked  you,  Leonie; 
and  Gordon  never  objects  when  I  s«t  my  heart  upon  any* 
thing,  he  loves  me  so  well. " 

As  she  spoke,  she  darted  a  amck  glance  at  Leonie' s  face, 


LBOlfTR    LOCKE. 

Fair,  treacherous  Dora!  she  told  the  glib  falsehood  with  a 
certain  air  of  truth  that  carried  conviction  with  it. 

"  HaTe  you  met  Gordon  lately?"  asked  Dora,  turning 
around  and  facing  Leonid  suddenly. 

"  No/'  said  Leonie,  trying  to  speak  calmly;  but,  in 
spite  of  her  great  effort,  the  voice  that  uttered  that  one 
word  quivered  piteously,  and  Dora's  quick  ear  detected  a 
world  of  longing  in  it,  and  a  swift,  hot,  jealous  pang  darted 
through  her  heart. 

"  I  am  having  Gordon's  portrait  painted — a  birthday 
surprise  for  his  mother.  It  will  be  finished  to-day.  The 
work  is  by  a  famous  artist,  and  he  promises  me  it  shall  be 
true  to  life.  Will  you  come  with  me  and  help  me  to  judge 
of  its  merit?" 

A  great,  sudden  longing  Leonie  could  not  understand 
came  over  her  to  go  with  Dora,  and  look  upon  the  pict 
ured  face  of  the  man  she  had  loved  so  well — loved  and  lost 
While  she -was  gazing  into  those  eyes  that  looked  such 
fond  love  into  hers — so  false  and  fair — she  would  take  a 
last  farewell  of  him — a  silent  farewell  of  the  handsome 
lover  who  had  cast  her  off  because  she  was  only  a  working- 
girl,  while  he  was  the  aristocratic  son  of  a  millionaire. 
How  well  she  loved  him  still!  Even  Paul  Rexford,  the 
poor  young  professor,  had  found  favor  in  her  eyes  because 
he  was  so  strangely  like  Gordon  Carlisle* 

If  her  very  life  had  depended  upon  that  one  action, 
Leonie  could  not  have  resisted  the  yearning  temptation  of 
accompanying  Dora. 

"  I  think  I  will  go  with  you,  Miss  Lancaster,"  she  said. 

There  was  a  sudden  gleam  in  Dora's  steel-blue  eyes,  that 
the  white,  drooping  lids  so  artfully  concealed — a  gleam  of 
triumph. 

How  strange  it  was  that  both  of  these  two  young  girk 
should  have  loved  the  same  man  with  such  a  passionate, 
deathless  love— a  love  that  was  to  be  the  doom  of  one  of 
them. 


168  LEOKIE    LOCKE. 

An  hoar  later  Dora's  stylish  little  phaeton,  drawn  by  & 
pair  of  prancing  bays,  was  whirling  leisurely  np  Broad* 
way. 

"  We  are  rather  early,"  said  Dora,  consulting  her  little 
jeweled  watch,  "  and  it  is  so  stupid  having  GO  a  waft  the 
pleasure  of  these  artists.  I  think  we  had  better  stop  at 
some  cafe,  and  have  luncheon  first. " 

The  reply  that  trembled  upon  Leonie's  lips  never  wai 
tattered,  for  at  that  moment  a  dark,  mocking  face  flashed 
quickly  past  them  from  an  adjacent  coupe. 

Great  heavens!  could  the  sea  give  up  its  dead?  could  the 
dark,  mocking  face  and  luridly  gleaming  eyes  that  had 
just  flashed  past  her  belong  to  the  man  whom  she  had 
pushed  down  in  the  dark,  maddening,  seething  waters? 

She  quite  expected  to  hear  his  voice  ring  opf  above  the 
din  of  the  noisy  streets  accusing  her  of  it. 

Leonie  put  out  her  hands  in  a  groping  way. 

*'  Stop  the  carriage,  please/'  she  cried,  in  a  voice  that 
was  scarcely  human.  "  I  had  forgotten  that  I  have  an 
appointment  at  this  very  hour.  You  need  not  drive  back, 
1  can  take  a  cab  just  as  well,  and  an  hour  later  I  will  join 
you  at  the  studio. " 

Remonstrance  was  useless,  and  Dora  was  obliged  to 
aliow  Leonie  to  depart. 

Leonie  glanced  hurriedly  around,  and  feeling  secure  in 
the  belief  she  was  not  followed,  she  bent  her  steps  hurried 
ly  in  the  direction  of  the  Morgue,  where  the  paper  had  said 
the  body  of  the  irian  who  had  been  washed  up  by  the  sea 
iiad  been  removed  for  identification. 

A  deathly  f aintness  seized  Leonie  as  she  made  known  her 
errand  to  the  man  in  attendance,  and  was  ushered  into  the 
main  apartment. 

In  aU  the  long  years  of  her  after  life  Leonie  never  forgot 
the  pitiful  sight  that  met  her  gaze.  Mothers  were  there 
searching  for  beloved  children,  wives  for  husbands,  and 
tistev  for  brother*  '*t»ttMKare  oiteous  wails,  and  heart 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  169 

Droken  sobs,  and  terrible  cries.  Like  one  in  a  horrible 
dream  Leonie  glided  among  them,  scanning  with  terror  the 
silent  forms  upon  the  pallid,  frozen,  marble  beds.  It 
seemed  to  Leonid  that  she  should  faint  from  sheer  fright  at 
every  step. 

"  Can  Charlie  Hart  be  among  them?"  queried  Leonk, 
half  aloud. 

"  Let  me  answer  that  question  for  you,"  and,  with  the 
sinister,  jarring  laugh  Leonie  remembered  but  too  well, 
Charlie  Hart,  in  the  flesh,  stepped  briskly  to  her  side,  with 
a  mocking  bow.  Leonie  did  not  cry  out  or  utter  any 
moan;  no  sound  fell  from  her  white  lips;  all  the  agony  of 
a  Kfe-time  seemed  crowded  into  that  awful  moment. 
"  You  dashed  me  down  into  the  sea  to  escape  me,"  he 
hissed  through  his  handsome  white  teeth,  "  but  you  see  I 
am  not  so  easily  disposed  of.  Being  an  expert  swimmer,  I 
managed  to  reach  the  shore.  You  shall  pay  dearly  for  thafc 
piece  of  work.  I  never  knew  before  how  dangerous  you 
could  be,  my  little  beauty. " 

Although  Leonie  was  thankful  beyond  measure  to  know 
that  she  was  free  from  the  terrible  dark  cloud  that  had 
gathered  above  her  head,  yet  the  sight  of  the  smiling,  re- 
vengeful  face  filled  her  with  the  greatest  dread  and  appre 
hension  of  impending  evil. 

He  was  not  dead  then,  he  had  escaped,  and  would  show 
her  little  mercy,  and  would  hunt  her  down  to  her  doom. 

Some  one  opened  a  door  a  few  paces  from  where  Leonie 
stood,  and  like  a  bird  who  suddenly  sees  the  door  of  its  cage 
thrown  open,  she  dashed  quickly  past  her  persecutor.  A 
sudden  wonder  struck  a  dread  chill  to  her  heart  as  she 
noticed  that  he  made  no  attempt  to  detain  or  follow  her. 

He  would  explain  to  the  whole  wide  world  the  blotted 
words  on  the  parchment,  and  they  could  easily  trace  tht, 
lines  with  a  microscope. 

Charlie  Hart  lived,  and  there  was  nothing  that  eouW 
gave  her  from  disgrace  and  ruin  now;  for  the  authorities 


170  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

were  examining  it,  and  before  the  sun  roee  on  the  morrow 
foey  would  trace  out  her  signature;  nothing  could  undo 
that;  at  any  moment  the  blow  might  fall,  and  the  terrible 
gtory  would  be  thrown  out  broadcast  to  the  world.  Leonie 
looked  up  to  the  cold  blue  sky,  and  the  prayer  for  mercy 
seemed  to  freeze  on  her  pallid  lips. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

AH  hour  later,  Leonie  stood  in  the  artist's  studio,  but 
Dora  Lancaster  was  not  there,  and  an  hour  passed  by, 
bringing  no  Dora. 

"  I  had  expected  to  find  Miss  Lancaster  here/'  explained 
Leonie,  as  the  celebrated  young  artist  bowed  politely  before 
her. 

"  The  young  lady  has  not  been  to  the  studio  to-day/'  he 
replied,  pleasantly;  "  and  perhaps  it  is  as  well,  for  the 
portrait  is  not  quite  finished. " 

"  Will  you  kindly  permit  me  to  see  it?"  asked  Leonie. 
"  I  am  sure  Miss  Lancaster  would  not  object,  and  I  should 
be  very  much  obliged  to  you  if  you  would." 

A  shadow  crossed  the  young  artist's  thoughtful  face. 

"  I  have  always  made  a  practice  of  refusing  a  request  of 
that  kind,"  he  said,  slowly;  **  but  if  you  really  insist  upon 
seeing  it,  I  will,  in  this  instance,  submit. " 

He  motioned  Leonie  to  follow  him,  and,  passing  down 
to  the  further  end  of  the  apartment,  drew  aside  the  heavy 
velvet  curtains,  disclosing  a  portrait  on  the  easel — the 
portrait  of  Gordon  Carlisla 

"  I  shall  be  obliged  to  leave  you  by  yourself  for  a  few 
moments,"  said  the  artist,  apologetically.  "  I  hope  you 
will  entertain  yourself  by  making  a  study  of  the  picture. 
You  will  find  my  sketch-book  upon  the  table,  and  in  it  the 
photograph  from  which  this  was  copied. " 

He  bowed  againt_aoi4L  the  nurpi*  velvet  curtains  fell  scffr 


-«.;  QI 

L20NIE    LOCKE.  171 

!y  behind  him,  and  Leonie  was  left  alone  with  the  portrait 
of  Gordon  Carlisle. 

Unfinished! — ah!  what  artist  is  pleased  with  his  own 
work,  be  it  ever  so  perfect?  There  seemed  to  be  nothing 
wanting  in  the  portrait,  it  was  so  true  to  life.  The  golden 
sunshine  lighted  up  the  frank  Saxon  face,  and  the  kindly 
blue  eyes  seemed  to  smile  into  her  own,  as  they  were  wont 
to  do  in  that  sweet,  brief  past,  when  he  had  been  her 
world. 

She  was  alone  with  the  portrait.  There  was  no  one  to 
see  how  she  knelt  before  the  picture,  pressing  her  warm 
cheek  to  the  cold,  pulseless  canvas,  pouring  out  a  world  of 
pent-up  love  and  bitter,  regretful  tears  over  the  love-dream 
that  had  been  so  cruelly  blighted. 

She  knew  now  that  her  regard  for  Pan!  Rexford  had 
been  only  a  passing  fancy,  built  upon  his  strange  resem 
blance  to  Gordon  Carlisle,  the  hero  whose  image  was  never 
to  leave  her  heart  while  life  lasted. 

"  Oh,  Gordon,  Gordon!"  she  sobbed,  twining  her  white 
arms  around  the  portrait,  "  Miss  Lancaster  can  never  love 
you  as  I  do.  We  were  so  happy,  dear!  I  wish  I  could 
have  died  then,  still  believing  in  my  heart  you  loved  me." 

She  did  not  see  a  white  hand  part  the  velvet  hangings, 
or  the  look  of  startled  surprise  and  wonder  that  crossed  the 
young  artist's  face  at  the  strange  tableau  of  the  beautiful 
dark-eyed  young  girl  kneeling  before  the  picture  he  had 
painted,  with  her  white  arms  twined  around  it,  and  a 
world  of  tragic  sorrow  in  her  dark,  upraised  eyes  and 
quivering  lips;  and,  years  after,  when  he  painted  just  such 
a  picture,  and  the  fame  of  the  American  artist  spread 
world  wide,  and  critics  spoke  of  his  wonderful  picture  and 
praised  his  vivid  imagination,  no  one  but  Leonie  knew 
what  it  meant  or  how  to  interpret  it 

The  young  artist  softly  retreated  before  Leonie  had  be 
come  aware  of  bi»  *VQI^M«.  leaving  her  alone  with  the  pop 
trait  again. 


172  LEOXIX    LOCKE. 

He  knew  the  sad  romance  of  Leonie  Locke's  life  as 
as  though  she  had  told  him  the  sweet,  pathetic  story  of 
that  broken  love-dream. 

The  young  artist  was  tender  of  heart,  and  a  tear  of  sym« 
pathy  rose  to  his  eye,  and  fell  upon  a  picture  he  was  touch 
ing  up. 

Meanwhile  Leonie  had  searched  for,  and  found,  the 
photograph  in  the  sketch-book. 

"  Ah,  if  this  were  only  mine!"  she  sighed,  bending  her 
beautiful  face  over  it;  then  a  sudden  thought  occurred  to 
ber — pencils  and  paper  lay  before  her;  could  she  not  make 
a  crayon  drawing  of  it?  her  father  had  often  praised  her 
skill  in  that  direction. 

It  was  wonderful  to  see  how  the  sketch  grew  under  hei 
skillful  fingers  when  love  prompted  every  delicate  touch. 
At  last  it  was  finished,  and  hidden  in  the  pocket  of  hei 
dress,  but  not  a  moment  too  soon,  for  at  that  moment 
Pora  Lancaster's  voice  was  heard  in  an  adjacent  apart 
ment,  and  the  next  instant  she  had  joined  Leonie. 

A  dark  look  of  malicious  hatred  crossed  her  face,  as  she 
observed  her  standing  before  Gordon' s  portrait. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  my  affianced  -husband's  pict 
ure?"  cried  Dora,  in  a  hard,  mocking  voice.  "  I  must 
compliment  the  artist  upon  his  wonderful  skilL  It  is  so 
life-like,  I  can  imagine  Gordon  standing  before  me;  and  1 
can  almost  fancy  those  lips  saying,  softly,  '  My  darling  lit 
tle  Dora—'  " 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter,  Leonie?  Are  you  ill?"  she 
cried,  in  well-simulated  surprise,  noting  with  keen  pleas 
ure  how  white  Leonie's  face  had  grown. 

Ah,  Heaven!  what  torture  it  was  to  sit  there  and  list 
en  to  Dora's  chatter,  when  each  word  stabbed  her  heart 
more  cruelly  than  a  dagger-thrust. 

The  room  seemed   to  s\vim  around  her,  and  the  air  to 
stifle  her,  ana  by  a  great  effort  she  kept  from  fainting. 
A  silver  pitcher  of  iced  water  stood  on  the  center-table, 


LEONIE    LOCKS.  171 

tod,  under  pretext  of  changing  her  seat,  Dora  passed  tba 
table,  dropped  a  fine,  grayish  powder  into  the  ice-water, 
but  not  an  instant  too  soon,  for  a  moment  later  Leonid 
crossed  over  to  the  pitcher,  poured  out  half  a  glass  of 
water  and,  little  dreaming  of  the  terrible  consequences, 
raised  it  to  her  lips.  ^ 

It  was  a  moment  of  thrilling  excitement  for  Dora.  She 
expected  to  see  the  slender  figure  of  Leonie  sway  to  and 
fro,  then  fall  to  the  floor.  But  in  that  instant,  when  life 
and  death  hung  in  the  balance,  she  was  miraculously  saved. 

A  servant  whom  the  imperious  Dora  had  not  deigned 
to  notice  as  she  swept  into  the  room,  had  been  arranging  a 
folio  of  drawings  in  an  adjacent  alcove,  and  had  been  a 
horrified  spectator  of  the  strange  would-be  tragedy  in  real 
life  that  had  been  enacted  before  his  astonished  eyes,  and, 
quick  as  thought,  he  had  gained  Leonie 's  side,  and  dashed 
the  goblet  from  her  white  fingers. 

Dora  could  scarcely  refrain  from  uttering  the  cry  of 
baffled  rage- that  rose  to  her  lips  upon  finding  herself  again 
so  cleverly  outwitted  by  fate,  while  Leonie  raised  her  dark- 
brown  eyes  in  startled  wonder. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  miss,"  apologized  the  man,  awkr 
wardly;  "  I — I — neglected  to  change  the  water  in  that 
pitcher  to-day,  and  it  is  not  fit  to  drink  " 

A  strange  pallor  had  stolen  over  Dora's  face,  and  hey 
eyes  flashed  fire  as  she  met  the  cool,  unflinching  gaze  of 
the  man  bent  searchingly  upon  her — a  glance  which  she 
^understood  but  too  well. 

"  He  has  found  out  in  some  way  that  I  drugged  that 
water, "  thought  Dora,  biting  her  crimson  lips  with  furious 
rexation.  "  But  he  dare  not  intimate  such  a  thing-^if  he 
does  I  can  easily  turn  his  own  weapons  against  him,  by  de 
claring  I  saw  him  do  the  deed,  and  who  will  believe  a  poor 
friendless  servant  in  preference  to  a  well-known  and 
wealthy  heiress?  If  he  dared  assert  such  a  thing  he  would 
*>e  adjudged  a  lunatic. 


174  LEO*rIE    LOCKE. 

Leon'e,  quite  innocent  of  the  real  cause  of  the  acoideefe 
readily  accepted  the  man's  apology,  and,  sponging  up  the 
water  from  the  Telyet  carpet,  and  removing  the  pitchet 
with  its  dangerous  contents — he  walked  slowly  from  the 
room  mentally  vowing  he  would  keep  a  sharp  eye  on  the 
movements  of  the  petty  little  blonde,  and  warn  Leonh 
"  to  beware  of  her  "  before  she  left  the  studio. 

But  the  shrewd,  calculating  Dora  took  good  care  to  pre 
vent  anything  of  that  kind  from  occurring — for  she  had 
readily  divined  the  man's  intentions.  And  she  did  not 
breathe  freely  until  she  had  Lemiie  safely  out  of  the  studio. 

"  You  will  come  with  Mrs.  Barrett  to  the  reception  to 
night?"  queotioned  Dora,  anxiously,  as  she  left  Leonie  at 
her  own  door.  "  Mrs.  Carlisle  and  I  are  going,  and  per 
haps  Gordon  will  be  there,  and  Mrs.  Barrett  has  promised 
me  that  ehe  will  be  sure  to  bring  you,  Leonie,  so  do  not 
disappoint  me." 

'*  I  can  not  tell  yet,"  replied  Leonie,  slowly — *'  perhaps 
I  may  be  there." 

Was  it  only  fancy,  or  was  Dora  Lancaster's  sudden 
friendship  for  her  sincere?"  Leonie  asked  herself  as  she 
walked  slowly  up  the  marble  steps,  and  through  the  corri 
dor  to  her  own  boudoir. 

In  a  rare  vase  on  the  mantel  was  a  large  bouquet  of  odor 
ous  roses,  but  Leonie  did  not  heed  them. 

She  seated  herself  in  a  cushioned  chair  by  the  window 
and  drew  from  her  pocket  the  crayon  sketch  she  bad  made 
<9f  Gordon  Carlisle. 

"  Oh,  my  love,  my  love,"  she  sobbed,  "  what  a  mockery 
jf  fate  it  was  to  go  with  the  woman  you  have  chosen  to  be 
,our  bride,  and  gaze  upon  your  pictured  face,  bidding  it 
a  silent,  tearless,  eternal  farewell.  Oh,  no — no — no— not 
a  farewell,  I  must  go  to  the  ball  to-night  and  look  upon 
your  face  just  once."  The  subtle  odor  of  the  roses  seemed 
to  float  out  to  her  and  fill  the  room;  that  was  the  first  in 
timation  Leonie  ha^sL^*6"1  r*af>  11*«8«ioe. 


LBOKIE    LOCKE. 

She  could  not  understand  why  she  shivered  as  with  a 
,  sudden  chill,  as  she  reached  out  her  hand  toward  them, 
i  As  her  white  fingers  closed  around  them,  she  recoiled 
with  a  sudden  cry— a  thorn  had  pierced  her  white  hand, 
and  it  seemed  to  Leonie  like  a  silent  voice  of  warning  of 
some  impending  evil. 

"  Ah,  roses,  would  that  my  iife  were  as  brief  as  yours/* 
she  sighed,  raising  them  in  her  hands. 

And  at  that  moment  a  note  fell  from  among  the  roses,  a 
note  addressed  to  her,  in  a  cramped,  unfamiliar  chirog- 
raphy,  bearing  the  significant  words  in  the  lower  left- 
hand  corner,  "  In  great  haste/' 

And  with  fluttering  heart  and  nervous  fingers  Leonia 
hastily  tore  open  the  envelope  that  inclosed  the  strange 
missive. 


CHAPTER  XXX1IL 

THE  mysterious  note  which  Leonie  had  found  among  the 
roses  contained  but  these  few  words: 

44  Be  prepared  to  welcome  me  to-morrow,  for  I  shall 
Come  then  and  claim  you  as  my  wife. 

"  Yours  with  the  greatest  adoration, 
"CHARLIE  HABT." 

It  almost  seemed  to  Leonie  that  her  heart  broke  in 
twain,  as  her  eyes  devoured  those  fatal  words  on  the  slip  oi 
paper. 

44  To-morrow!"  she  gasped,  rising  up  excitedly,  and 
pacing  the  room  hurriedly  to  and  fro.  *4 1  shall  have  s> 
few  hours  before  that  time,  and  then— and  then — " 

She  fell  back  in  her  chair  with  a  low,  bitter,  piteous  cry. 
u  He  shall  not  find  me  here,"  she  sobbed.  "  I  would 
sooner  be  the  bride  of  death — or,  better  still — 1  could  go 
far  away  where  no  one  who  had  ever  known  me  could  Joofc 
upon  my  face, " 


276  LEOXIE    LOCKE. 

i     \ 

A  sudden  longing  came  over  her  to  see  Gordon  Carlisk 
again;  there  could  be  no  harm  in  satisfying  her  poor  hun» 
gry  heart,  even  though  he  loved  another,  by  gazing  upon 
his  face  and  listening  to  his  voice  for  one  little  moment 
Yes,  she  would  go  to  the  ball  to-night,  for  Dora  had  said 
Gordon  would  surely  be  there. 

Mrs.  Barrett  was  delighted  when  she  entered  Leonie's 
boudoir  a  few  hours  later  and  found  her  maid  giving  the 
last  finishing  touches  to  a  toilet  that  was  simply  perfect. 
Aimee  the  maid  is  busily  and  skillfully  at  work,  the  result 
is  to  pass  every  previous  effort. 

"Make  me  pretty  to-night,  Aimee/'  Leonie  cries,  in  a 
voice  that  sounds  strangely  husky,  "  if  you  never  do  it  in 
your  life  again." 

And  Aimee  is  doing  her  best.  The  soft  brown  curls  are 
banded  back  with  gleaming  milk-white  pearls.  Her  dress 
is  one  of  Worth's  rarest  and  richest,  a  dream  of  azure  silk 
and  embroidered  pink  rosebuds,  with  gleaming  silver 
leaves  and  rare  point  lace,  more  costly  than  rubies. 

Diamonds  sparkle  in  her  tiny  ears,  they  loop  up  the  bil 
lowy  lace  on  her  bosom,  and  run  like  a  river  of  crimson, 
and  golden  light  around  her  neck  and  beautiful  white  armu. 

But  the  burning  fire  in  the  large,  lustrous  brown  eyes 
outshine  them.  They  are  filled  with  a  strange,  restless 
light;  her  cheeks  are  wonderfully  flushed,  and  her  dry  lips 
are  fever  red. 

"  He  must  see  me  at  my  best  to-night,"  is  the  thought 
that  is  Hashing  through  her  brain,  and  perhaps  he  wilF 
always  remember  her  as  she  looks  to-night,  a  proud  and 
haughty  heiress  now,  not  the  innocent  little  working-girl 
who  had  taken  her  first  lesson  in  love  from  his  false  lips. 
The  young  girl  to  whom  he  dared  speak  of  love,  but  not 
of  marriage,  because  she  was  socially  his  inferior. 

Leonie  remembers  it  all  with  scorn  too  deep  for  words. 

An  hour  later  Leonie  and  Mrs.  Barrett  enter  the  crowded 
{luriors  leaning  upon  Lawver  Barretts  arms. 


lOOJSIE    LOCKE.  ITS 

I*;  j  Even  among  the  throngs  of  beautiful  young  girls  there 
are  few  as  peerless  as  Leonie  Locke,  and  a  low  hum  of  ad* 
miration  goes  through  the  vast  parlors. 

As  Leonie  crossed  the  ^threshold  her  gaze  fell  full  upon 
the  face  of  Gordon  Carlisle.  She  had  expected  a  startled 
look  of  surprise  to  flash  across  his  grave,  handsome  face, 
but  no  such  expression  crossed  it,  and  Leonie  is  more 
piqued, than  she  cares  to  own,  even  to  herself. 

.Leonie  does  not  allow  her  glance  to  rest  upon  his  face 
f<*r  a  single  instant  She  is  in  a  state  of  half -delirious  ex 
citement.  She  hardly  feels  the  floor  beneath  her;  she 
seems  to  float  on  buoyant  air,  for  she  feels  intuitively  the 
deep,  steady  gaze  of  Gordon  Carlisle's  grave,  blue  ey«a  fol 
lowing  her. 

Dora  Lancaster  was  there,  but  not  Gordon's  mother. 

He  made  no  attempt  to  come  near  her,  and  Leonie  told 
herself  that  the  great  triumph  she  had  looked  forward  to 
so  long  had  been  a  sad  failure.  Gordon  Carlisle  seemed  t« 
quietly  ignore  her. 

Never  had  Leonie  made  as  many  conquests  as  to-night, 
but  what  mattered  it  to  her  if  she  had  the  admiration  of 
the  whole  world,  when  the  man  whom  she  loved  held  aloof. 

How  was  she  to  dream  of  the  terrible  struggle  between 
love  and  pride  that  kept  Gordon  Carlisle  from  her  side? 

"  Sordid  gold  is  the  god  whom  she  worships, "  he  sighed 
bitterly,  as  he  turned  a  way.  ' '  When  the  choice  was  given 
her  between  my  love  and  gold,  love  was  found  to  be  lighter. 
Great  Heaven,  how  heartless  these  beautiful  young  girk 
are!  Perhaps  mother  was  right  in  proving  her  love  for 
me,  even  at  such  a  bitter  cost. " 

Eren  Dora  Lancaster  held  aloof  lest  Gordon  and  Leonie 
might  by  any  possible  chance  be  thrown  into  each  other's 
society.  She  can  not  endure  Leonie's  triumph,  for  she  is 
foted  by  every  one  present  to  be  the  belle  of  the  ball;  and 
sigh  after  sigh  trembles  over  Gordon  Carlisle's  lips  as  hifi 
3*rnest  gaze  follows  Leonie  about. 


\7S  LECNIE    LOCKE. 

Dora  had  written  Gordon  a  note  that  day,  begging  hint 
in  a  sisterly  fashion  to  accompany  her,  as  his  mother  had 
been  slightly  indisposed,  and  if  he  did  not  call  for  her  she 
would,  of  coarse,  haye  to  miss  the  moat  select  ball  of  the 
season. 

Gordon  Carlisle  had  kept  his  word  to  the  very  letter — he 
had  never  crossed  his  father's  threshold  since  the  night  he 
had  been  so  summarily  turned  from  the  house,  because  he 
•'had  so  manfully  declared  his  love  for  Leonie  Locke. 

Dora's  note  had  reached  him  at  his  quarters  at  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Hotel,  and  at  the  hour  named  his  coach  was  in 
front  of  his  father's  door,  but  in  spite  of  all  pretty  Dora's 
coaxing  Gordon  remained  firm — he  would  not  cross  his  fa 
ther's  threshold. 

Dora  was  satisfied;  she  had  seen  Gordon  and  Leonie  pass 
each  other  by  with  averted  faces.  Guilty,  designing  Dora 
knew  she  had  separated  the  lovers  effectually. 

Gordon  believed  Leonie  had  given  him  up  of  her  own 
free  will;  while  Leonie,  poor,  innocent,  little  soul,  believed 
Bora's  artful  falsehood — that  she  was  the  affianced  bride 
of  Gordon  Carlisle. 

The  pitiful  misunderstanding  that  sundered  two  liveg 
could,  a]  as,  so  easily  have  been  cleared  up,  had  either  of 
them  but  made  one  step  toward  a  reconciliation,  then  and 
there. 

The  ball  was  at  its  height,  when,  by  some  strange  freak  of 
cruel  fate,  Gordon  and  Leonie  found  themselves  in  the 
same  <?et  together  of  a  waltz-quadrille.  There  was  no  help 
for  it.  She  knew  she  must  waltz  with  each  one  in  the  set 
in  turn,  and  at  last — oh,  mockery  of  fate,  she  found  her 
self  bowing  to  Gordon  Carlisle,  and  the  next  moment  his 
arms  were  clasping  her  in  a  firm  embrace. 

Ah,  Heaven!  how  cruel  it  was  to  live  over  again  in  that 
one  blissful  moment  —  the  beautiful  love-dream  of  that 
past,  when  those  same  arms  had  clasped  her  in  just  such 
a  thrilling,  tender 


LEOKIE    LOCKS.  171 

And  at  that  moment  the  beautiful  words  of  the  poeta* 
rang  in  the  heart  of  both: 

"  The  band  was  playing  a  wahz-quadrilte, 
I  ftlt  as  light  as  a  wind-blown  feather, 

As  we  floated  away  at  the  caller's  will, 
Through  the  intricate,  mazy  dance  together. 

The  fold  of  your  strong  arm  sent  a  thrill 
From  the  heart  to  brain  as  we  gently  glided, 

Like  leaves,  on  the  wave  of  that  waltz- quadrille- 
Met  and  parted,  and  then  divided. 

"  I  said  to  my  heart,  '  Let  us  take  our  fill 

Of  mirth  and  music,  and  love  and  laughter; 
For  it  all  must  end  with  this  waltz-quadrille, 

And  life  will  be  never  the  same  life  after. 
Oh,  that  the  caller  might  go  on  calling! 

Oh,  that  the  music  might  go  on  falling! 
While  we  whirled  on  to  the  vast  Forever, 

Where  no  hearts  break,  and  no  ties  sever.' 

"  A  clamor,  a  crash,  and  the  band  was  still — 

Twos  the  end  of  the  dream,  and  the  end  of  the  meoB 

ure; 
The  last  low  notes  of  that  waltz-quadrille 

Seemed  like  a  dirge  o'er  the  death  of  pleasure. 
You  bowed — we  parted — the  spell  was  over; 

Too  warm  for  a  friend,  and  too  cold  for  a  lover, 
There  was  nothing  else  to  say; 

And  the  lights  locked  dim  and  the  dancers  weary, 
And  the  music  was  sad  and  the  hall  was  dreary, 

After  you  went  away  " 

The  blue  eye*  and  the  timid  brown  ones  met  ia  one 
swift  giance. 

"  Come  into  the  conservatory,  Miss  Locke, "  whispered 
Gordon,  drawing  the  little  white,  jeweled  hand  within  his. 
arm. 

Leonie  had  often  lived  over,  in  her  own  mind,  just  how 
ahe  would  answer  auch  a  request,  when  they  met,  if  Go* 
ion  Carlisle  ahould  ww  ask  bar  far  a  private  interview 


180  LEONIE    LOCKK 

But  now,  when  the  actual  moment  confronted  her,  afl  tbt 
euperb  scorn  behind  which  she  had  intended  to  intrench 
herself  seemed  to  vanish  and  fail  her. 

More  than  one  pair  of  eyes  followed  his  tall,  manly  fig 
ure  and  the  slight,  girlish  form  clinging  to  his  arm,  as  they 
'.eft  the  brilliant  parlors  and  wended  their  way  toward  the 
conservatory  beyond. 

\  Dora  Lancaster  watched  them  with  bated  breath.  All 
ithe  happiness  of  her  after  life  depended  upon  averting  an 
interview  or  a  reconciliation;  and,  making  a  hasty  excuse 
to  a  handsome  young  cadet  who  had  come  to  claim  her  for 
the  next  polka,  Dora  glided  hastily  from  the  ball-room, 
e offering  all  the  keen  tortures  of  jealousy  as  she  gazed  upon 
the  graceful  forms  disappearing  amid  the  soft  glow  of  the 
Colored  lamps  and  the  tall,  waving  plants. 

The  night  was  a  perfect  one.  A  young  moon,  liko  a 
lender  jewel,  hung  in  the  star-gemmed  sky,  shedding  its 
soft  rays,  with  the  softened,  mellow  glow  of  the  lamps,  on 
the  rustic  benches  placed  here  and  there  half  among  the 
shadows. 

Gordon  and  Leonie  walked  slowly  along,  little  dreaming 
of  the  angry  woman  stealing  so  softly  behind  them,  whose 
gliding  footsteps  were  gaining  upon  them  each  moment. 

"  Will  you  sit  down  by  the  fountain?  I — I — have  some 
thing  I  wish  to  tell  you,  Leonie,"  said  Gordon,  in  a  husky 
voice,  as  his  warm  hand  closed  firmly  over  the  little,  cold, 
white  fingers  lying  as  lightly  as  snow-flakes  on  his  arm. 

The  eventful  moment  of  their  lives  had  come. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

THBEB  was  a  pretty  picturesque  rock  by  the  fountain 
just  large  enough  for  two,  and  with  a  gentle,  almost  caress 
ing  touch,  Gordon  placed  Leonie  on  it,  taking  a  seat  by 
her  side. 

She  half  turned  h*»  ^rr  from/his,  for  the  fire  of  those 


LBONIE    LOCKE. 


lark-bine  eyee  seemed  to  scorch  her,  and  the  beautiful 
silence  that  came  over  them  was  only  broken  by  the  sound 
of  the  falling  water,  and  the  sweet  strains  of  music  that 
floated  out  to  them. 

Suddenly,  as  though  his  bright,  passionate  longing  gkze 
compelled  her,  she  raised  her  dark  eyes  to  his.  She  made 
a  desperate  effort  to  regain  her  indifference,  but  her  hearv 
beat  quickly  with  a  pleasure  so  great,  it  was  almost  pain. 

"  How  strange  it  was  that  this  girl  with  the  sweet,  pure 
face  of  an  angel,  should  have  preferred  wealth  to  lovo," 
Gordon  Carlisle  told  himself  bitterly.  He  could  remember 
the  beautiful  light  that  had  softened  her  dark  eyes  afc  his 
approach,  and  the  blushes  that  suffused  her  flower-like 
face.  Had  her  love  for  him  been  but  a  dream? 

Gordon  reached  over  and  detached  the  blossom  of  a  pure 
white  flower  that  drooped  above  her  head,  brushing  against 
her  soft  cheek  as  the  breeze  swayed  it  to  and  fro. 

Gordon  raised  the  flower  to  his  lips. 

"  I  envy  this  flower  because  it  has  caressed  your  face, 
Leonie,"  he  said,  with  a  voice  husky  wita  emotion,  "  and 
it  brings  back  to  me  a  memory  I  can  never  forget.  I  have 
brought  you  here  because  I  could  bear  the  pain  no  longer, 
Leonie.  I  must  speak  to  you  or  I  must  die.  The  old 
sweet  love-dream  comes  over  me  again,  strive  thongh  I  may 


He  stops  abruptly  at  a  gesture  from  her. 

A  flush  passes  over  her  face,  a  strange  light  flashes  inte 
iier  golden-brown  eyes.  The  white  hands  that  clasp  hei 
hrory-handled  fan  tremble  with  suppressed  emotion.  Her 
face  grows  proud  and  cold,  and  her  voice  scornful. 

"  1  wonder,"  she  said,  rising  slowly  to  her  feet,  "  thafc 
you  have  dared  to  say  this  to  me. " 

Her  pride  is  strong  within  her,  it  rings  in  her  voice  antf 
flashes  from  her  eyes. 

"  Where  is  your  pretended  sense  of  honor?  A  lore- 
Oreaml  You  insuJ^«w^"A*WWlJdfc,  I  am  not  the  same 


188  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

girl  now  that  1  was  then.     Let  me  hear  no  more  of  thk 
I  do  not  forget  your  position  if  you  do." 

For  a  moment  Gordon  Carlisle  does  not  speak,  so  great 
is  his  surprise.  He  trembles  and  his  face  blanches,  she  has 
taken  him  back  so  completely. 

In  that  moment  a  great  burst  of  music  comes  from  the 
ball-room,  the  first  bars  of  a  grand  triumphal  march. 

Hot  tears  filled  his  eyes. 

"  An  insult?"  he  echoed  the  words  she  had  used  with  a 
voice  husky  with  intense  emotion. 

How  little  he  dreamed  of  the  cruel  story  Dora  Lancaster 
had  told  her — of  her  engagement  to  himself  and  their  ap 
proaching  marriage;  he  thought,  of  course,  that  she  re 
ferred  to  his  poverty  and  her  wealth,  and  the  paiu  the 
thought  brought  nearly  maddened  him. 

"  Have  you  no  pity,  no  compassion  left,  Leonie?"  he 
cried,  falling  on  his  knees  before  her  and  clasping  the  white 
hands  firmly  in  his,  that  were  ruthlessly  strewing  the  leaves 
of  the  roses  about  her.  "  Listen  to  me  for  but  a  moment, 
let  me  say  aH  that  is  in  my  heart,  and  then  condemn  me 
if  you  will " 

Gordon  Carlisle  looks  at  her  again,  and  the  story  his  eyes 
tell  is  the  story  told  since  the  world  began,  to  be  told  till 
the  world  ends. 

"  I  am  not  the  same  Leonie  Locke  now  that  I  was 
then,"  she  repeats,  pantingly.  "  I  was  only  a  romantic 
«hild  then,  always  remember  it." 

"  Heaven  knows  1  realize  that  fact  but  too  plainly!"  he 
replies,  huskily.  "  I  wonder  if  any  other  human  being 
ever  changed  so  utterly  in  a  few  short  months  as  you  have 
done,  Leonie.  There  is  not  a  trace,  not  a  tone,  not  a  look 
of  the  little  Leonie  whom  1  have  loved." 

A  smile  breaks  over  the  proud  set  gravity  of  her  face,  a 
smile  of  triumph.  "  I  loved  that  Leonie,"  he  whispers, 
brokenly;  "and  I  adore  thisxone,"  He  stops,  catching 
feis  breath  hard, 


LKHOB    LOCKE. 

The  words  give  Leonie  an  absolute  shock;  he,  the  en* 
gaged  husband  of  Dora  daring  to  talk  to  her  like  this. 

"  Fickle  of  heart  and  fair  of  face/'  is  the  thought  that 
flashes  through  her  brain,  as  she  springs  to  her  feet  white 
with  anger  and  confronts  him.  "  Yon  are  less  than  noth 
ing  to  me,  Mr.  Carlisle;  take  me  back  to  the  ball-room  »t 
once;  the  sooner  this  annoying  scene  ends  the  better  pleased 
1  shall  be.  I  shall  take  good  care  that  it  shall  never  be 
repeated.  I  say.  again  that  you  are  willfully  insulting  me.  '* 

Her  words  had  gone  home,  they  had  struck  the  very  core 
of  his  heart. 

He  gazed  at  her  steadily  as  she  stood  there,  with  the 
soft,  mellow  glow  of  the  colored  lamps  falling  upon  her 
shimmering  robe,  and  her  proudly  averted  head,  the  most 
beautiful  picture  that  a  man's  eyes  ever  rested  upon. 

She  had  stung  his  pride  at  last.  He  sprung  to  his  feet, 
and  a  hot  flush  came  to  his  face.  "  You  may  term  my 
yearning  love  presumptuous  if  you  will;  but  not  an  insuJL 
The  love  of  an  honest,  honorable  man  can  insult  no  WOM- 
an,"  he  replied,  proudly. 

"  I  am  wealthier  than  Dora/'  she  thought,  bitterly, 
"  and  wealth  is  everything  in  his  eyes,  and  honor  ie  a  dead 
letter,"  and  her  hot  indignation  increased  with  every  mo 
ment 

"  1  have  pleaded  my  love  for  the  second  time  in  vain," 
he  said,  slowly,  raising  his  miserable  face  to  the  stars  that 
shone  down  pityingly  through  the  windows.  "The  time 
will  come,  Leonie,  when  you  will  feel  sorrow  for  the  hasty 
accusations  you  have  used  against  me  to-night,  when  yoc 
will  repent  the  words  you  have  spoken  to  ms,  and  wish 
they^had  never  been  said." 

"1  do  not  think  so/'  she  replied,  sarcastically,  in  her 
musical,  pitiless  voice.  "  You  must  remember  1  was  only 
an  ignorant,  innocent  child  when  1  listened  to  your  vows 
«rf  love.  I  did  not  know  then  what  1  know  now." 

She  was  thinking  of  that  scene  she  had  witnessed  in  the 


184  LEONIB    LOCKS. 

corridor  of  Ms  father's  home,  his  arms  tightly  clasped 
about  Dora  Lancaster's  slender  form,  while  he  brushed 
away  the  pearly  tear-drops  from  her  eyes.  The  memory 
of  that  scene  would  linger  with  her  while  life  lasted. 

And  the  words  of  Gordon's  mother  came  plainly  back  to 
ner.  "  Gordon  might  speak  to  a  working-girl  of  love,  for 
he  is  fickle,  and  has  a  weakness  for  pretty  faces,  but  I  am 
jure  he  has  never  mentioned  marriage."  And  Leonie  had 
never  forgotten  how  the  words  had  burst  upon  her  startled 
senses,  and  the  remembrance  of  that  hour  rendered  her 
colder  and  prouder  than  ever. 

A  long,  low  moan  came  from  his  lips,  and  the  awful  de 
spair  in  his  face  startled  her;  and  she  knew  in  that  mo 
ment  that  he  cared  for  her  as  he  had  never  cared  for  Dora 
Lancaster;  but  the  triumph  born  of  that  knowledge  had 
in  it  more  of  bitter  pain  than  pleasure,  for  he  was  engaged 
to  marry  Dora.  Should  she  tell  him  the  pitiable  story  of 
'Jhailie  Hart's  persecution— of  the  strange  power  he  bell 
over  her,  and  of  the  desperate  plan  she  had  resolved  upon 
— to  fly  from  the  life  that  menaced  her  that  very  night;  to 
fly  so  far  that  no  one  who  had  ever  known  her  could  loo* 
upon  her  face  again?  Ah!  if  she  had  only  told  him,  how 
much  sorrow  would  have  been  spared? 

"  No,  no;  it  would  be  useless.  Gordon  Carlisle,  as  fickla 
of  heart  as  he  was  handsome  of  face,  could  not  help  her," 
she  told  herself. 

"  Let  us  go  back  to  the  ball-room,  if  you  please/'  she 
said,  haughtily.  "  Miss  Lancaster  will  be  waiting  for  you* 
I  am  sorry  we  have  met  again. " 

"  You  mean  this?"  he  says,  slowly. 

"  I  mean  this,"  she  answers,  and  meets  his  eyes  full. 

"  Then  there  is  no  more  to  be  said,"  he  replies,  huskily, 
as  he  rises,  offers  her  his  arm,  and  conducts  her  back  to 
the  ball-room.  "  Pardon  me  for  having  taken  you  from 
your  friends  and  wealthy  admirers  so  long.  Good-night 
and  good-bye,  Mis*.  Locke. "" 


LEONIE    LOCKS.  181 

An  impulse  is  upon  her  thoroughly  contradictory  and 
thoroughly  womanly  to  call  him  back — to  end  thig  misera 
ble  farce  of  pretending  not  to  care  for  him.  A  flush  svreepe 
over  her  face  to  the  very  temples. 

"  Oh,  come  back!  Do  not  go!"  is  on  her  lips;  bat  her 
lips  refuse  to  speak,  and  while  she  hesitates,  Gordon  Car- 
lisle  bows  low  over  the  little  white  hand,  drops  it,  and 
walks  away,  and  no  one  who  saw  the  white,  set  expression 
of  his  handsome  face  and  the  drawn  lines  about  the  month 
ever  forgot  it.  He  had  gone  without  even  the  poor  return 
of  an  answer  to  his  good- night. 

The  room  seemed  to  stifle  Leonie,  and  the  lights  to 
ffwim  around  her. 

"  Come  up  to  Mrs.  Harvey 's  boudoir,  Leonie/'  cried 
Mrs.  Barrett,  making  her  way  up  to  where  she  sat;  "  you 
are  white  as  death,  white  to  the  lips,  as  if  you  were  about 
t>  faint." 

Like  one  in  a  mazy  dream  Leonie  took  Mrs.  Barrett3! 
arm,  and  allowed  her  to  lead  her  from  the  room. 

"  Rest  here  for  half  an  hour,  my  dear;  no  one  shall  dis 
turb  you,"  said  Mrs.  Harvey,  the  hostess,  placing  her  upon 
a  divan.  "  Take  off  your  jewels,  my  dear,  and  lay  them 
on  the  table.  Loosen  your  dress,  and  make  yourself  com 
fortable.  Turn  the  key  in  the  lock,  if  you  wish;  I  will 
come  back  in  less  than  half  an  hour  to  see  if  yon  are  all 
right.  Remember,  I  can  not  spare  my  greatest  attraction 
for  a  longer  time  than  that. " 

Leonie  sunk  back  upon  the  divan,  feeling  faint,  siekP 
and  unutterably  unhappy,  her  face  hidden  in  her  hands. 

Tired  nature  asserted  itself,  and  Leonie  dropped  into  a 
dreamless  slumber. 

A  slight  sound  hi  the  room  awakened  her — a  sound  faint 
and  stealthy,  yet  startlingly  terrible,  the  low,  clicking 
sound  of  a  lock,  and  in  the  dim,  nickering  light  Leonie 
saw  distinctly  the  form  oC  a  mun  bending  over  the  jewel 
a  form  stariiingly  familiar  to  her  strained  eyes 


188  lEOim  LOCKB. 

tlie  next  instant  a  terrible  shriek— Mild,  piercing,  and  hor 
rified — rang  through  the  house,  as  sha  uttered  his  name. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

ONCE,  twice,  thri«e  the  terrible  cry  rings  through  tta 
house  as  Leonie  gazes,  with  white,  awful .  horror  on  her 
face,  at  the  midnight  intruder,  who  bends  his  masked  face 
over  the  glittering  jewels.  He  turns,  with  a  terrible  im<- 
precation  on  his  lips,  and  with  one  swift  bound  he  has 
leached  her  side  and  put  his  hand  over  her  mouth,  and  a 
struggle  ensues. 

"  Curse  your  infernal  tongue  I"  he  mutters  between  his 
Clinched  teeth,  "  you  have  brought  the  whole  house  upon 
me!"  In  the  struggle  the  mask  has  been  torn  from  his 
face.  Their  eyes  meet;  the  light  of  the  gas-jet  falls  full 
upon  both  of  them;  the  struggle  ceases,  and  the  midnight 
robber  loosens  his  hold  of  her.  For  one  awful  moment  she 
•tares  up  at  him,  he  down  at  her. 

"Leonie — Locke!"  he  gasps,  hoarsely;  and,  with  a 
horror  too  deep  to  be  painted  in  words,  she  gazes  up  into 
the  face  of  Charlie  Hart. 

She  has  always  had  a  strange  horror  of  this  man— now 
she  knows  why.  The  awful  blackness  of  his  true  character 
is  clearly  revealed. 

And  this  is  the  man  who  holds  her  in  his  deadly  power— 
the  man  who  is  to  claim  her  on  the  morrow  as  his  wife* 
through  that  fatal  paper  she  had  signed  in  a  moment  of 
madness.  Her  senses  reel  at  the  very  thought  of  it. 

Flying  footsteps  were  hurrying  through  the  corridor. 
Nearer  and  nearer  they  approached,  and  the  neit  moment 
they  would  reach  the  door. 

"  You  must  not  betray  me,"  hissed  Charlie  Hart,  dart* 
ing  behind  the  silken  draperies  of  the  window.  "  Remem 
ber — I  warn  yon  to  make  no  outcry.  Send  those  people 
from  the  door  £kf  that  YOU  made  no  ootcry — it 


UWBTE    LOOKS.  13? 

enly  their  fancy.     Do  this,  and  I  will  leave  the  country  to* 
night" 

"  Say  that  you  will  nerer  claim  me  as  your  wife,  and  I 
wfll  do  it,"  cried  Leonie,  white  to  the  lips  with  terrible 
excitement. 

Quite  a  crowd  was  collecting  in  the  corridor,  and  Charlie 
Hart  could  hear  them  talking  of  forcing  open  the  door. 
He  knew  he  must  speak  quickly,  and  ie  gave  the  promise 
that  he  had  no  intention  of  keeping,  readily  enough;  and 
Leonie,  in  all  her  innocent  trustfulness,  believed  him. 

The  next  moment  she  has  unbolted  the  door  and  flung  it 
wide  open. 

Deep  down  in  her  soul  Leonie  abhors  the  lie  she  is  com 
pelled  to  act;  but  she  knows  it  is  the  price  of  the  horrible 
secret  this  guilty  plunderer  holds  over  her  head  like  a 
flaming  sword,  and  she  must  not  hesitate.  She  dare  not 
allow  his  presence  there  to  become  known. 

"Oh!  what  is  the  matter?"  the  ladies  cry  in  a  chorus, 
crowding  around  her  in  breathless  alarm.  "  What  can  be 
the  matter,  Miss  Locke?" 

Leonie  clasps  her  hands  above  her  heart  as  though  to 
stop  the  violent  throbbing  that  she  is  quite  sore  they  must 
hear.  A  deathly  faintness  steals  over  her;  but  she  dares 
not  give  way  to  it,  lest  by  any  chance  they  might  cross  the 
room  to  open  the  window,  and  Charlie  Hart's  retreat  would 
be  disclosed  to  their  astonished  eyes;  and  then,  to  defend 
his  horrible  position,  such  a  shocking  expose  would  follow^ 
and  ere  the  sun  shone  on  the  morrow  the  whole  city  would 
ring  with  the  great  sensational  scandal  that  would  mar  a 
young  girl's  life. 

But  when  such  a  moment  comes,  stung  to  madness  by 
her  wrongs  and  persecutions,  let  Charlie  Hart  tremble,  his 
life  would  not  be  worth  much.  Ee  did  not  know  the  terrt 
bl«  vengeance  she  would  take  upon  him,  a  glorious  revenge* 
and  the  world  would  applaud  her  when  they  heard  bar  piti 
^al  story. 


188  LBOSTE    LOCKE. 

"  We  thought  we  keard  a  piercing  scream/'  echoed  the 
ladies;  "bat  we  must  ha,ve  been  mistaken,  Miss  Locke, 
judging  from  your  expression  of  astonishment.  Did  you 
cry  out?" 

"  No,"  said  Leonie,  making  a  brave  attempt  at  com 
posure;  "  it  must  have  been  a  mischievous  urchin  on  the 
street.  I — I  am  sorry  you  left  the  ball-room  on  such  an 
errand. " 

The  merry  group  of  maidens  tripped  quickly  back  to  the 
ball-room,  laughing  and  chatting,  calling  back  to  Leonie 
to  "  make  haste  and  join  them,  for  the  band  was  playing 
another  waltz."  Mrs.  Barrett  alone  remained,  much  to 
Leonie's  terror. 

Leonie  sinks  down  in  a  powerless  sort  of  a  way  into  the 
first  chair,  and  Mrs.  Barrett  notices  in  the  hectic  flush  of 
her  cheeks  and  startled  brightness  of  her  eyes  unusual  ex 
citement. 

Leonie  and  Mrs.  Barrett  are  alone  together,  or  at  leawt 
the  latter  lady  thinks  so. 

"  Leonie,"  she  says,  sitting  down  on  the  velvet  divan  be 
side  her,  and  taking  the  girl's  white,  cold  fingers  firmly  in 
her  own,  "  I  was  passing  through  the  corridor,  and  I  heaid 
those  cries  distinctly,  and  I  knew  your  voice.  I  am  at  a 
loss  to  comprehend  the  meaning  of  it,  my  dear;  I  can  not 
understand  it;  why  did  you  call  for  help?  There  seems  1,o 
be  some  startling  mystery  here." 

4 'Did  I?"  answered  Leonie,  confusedly;  "I  must  have 
been  dreaming  if  I  cried  out,"  turning  a  face  so  white  and 
miserable  toward  Mrs.  Barrett  that  she  started  back  in 
wonder. 

"  You  have  not  been  yourself  of  late,  Leonie,"  she  an 
swers,  drawing  the  dark  curly  head  to  her  bosom  and 
pushing  back  the  soft,  dark,  clinging  locks  from  the  girl's 
temple.  "  You  need  rest  Lie  down  on  the  sofa  again,  1 
will  go  and  find  Mr.  Barrett,  and  he  will  see  that  the  car 
riage  is  brought  aro&njLiexju  at  once." 


" 


UJUJTTB    LOUttJl*  2S& 

•*  Sea,  let  us  go  home,  I  am  tired  to  death!"  *»  eta 
speaks  Leonie  sinks  back  upon  the  sola,  clasping  her  fiat 
teiing  hands  over  her  heart 

There  is  weariness  unspeakable  in  the  gesture,  and  heart 
nckness  so  pathetic  in  the  quivering  voice  that  Mrs.  Barrett 
flakes  the  slight  figure  in  her  arms  and  soothes  her  ar 
khough  she  were  a  tired  child. 

"  My  poor  little  dear/'  she  says,  softly,  "  no  wondet 
yoj  are  tired;  you  have  danced  almost  every  set;  yom 
nerves  are  all  unstrung  with  so  much  excitement" 

Yes,  I  am  tired—  tired—  tired/'  sighed  Leonie;  "1 
rest  here  until  yon  come  for  me." 

The  words  trail  oft  heavily,  and  Leonfe  sink?  task 
among  the  pillows  of  the  sofa. 

"  1  shall  not  be  long  then,  my  dear,0  Mrs.  Barrett  say* 
at  ehe  walks  quickly  from  the  room. 

Bat  her  last  words  have  fallen  upon  deat  ears.  Trying 
to  keep  up  appearances  before  Mrs.  Barrett,  when  at  any 
moment  Charlie  Hart's  near  presence  might  be  discovered, 
Its  been  too  much  for  her  highly  strung  nerves,  and  she 
dropped  back  upon  the  lace  pillow  in  a  deathly  swoon. 

The  moment  the  door  closed  Charlie  Hart  darted  from 
kl*  place  of  concealment  and  turned  the  key  in  the  lock. 

One  glance  at  Leonie's  face  and  he  takes  in  the  exae* 
situation. 

A  sardonic  langb  forces  its  way  through  his  white  teeth. 

"  I  thought  I  should  have  considerable  trouble  with  hei 
Jot  Dame  Fortune  seems  to  aid  me/' 

As  he  muttered  the  last  words  he  wrapped  a  dark  cloak, 
which  he  found  in  the  wardrobe,  quickly  about  her,  and 
raising  her  in  his  arms,  with  as  much  ease  as  though  she 
had  been  an  infant,  hastily  made  his  exit  with  her,  through 
the  long,  low,  Kronen  window,  through  which  be  had 

an  entrance  into  the  boadon*. 
1*  *f&  be  many  *  «ua#  vear  befora  TOOT  tends  ionfc 


290  tawnra  ran. 


joar  face  again,  my  charming  Leonie.    My 
little  craft  will  take  a  long  cruise  this  time.0 

Charlie  Hart  was  fleet  of  foot  and  strong  of  arm,  and, 
atil\  carrying  Leonie  in  hia  arms,  he  hastily  made  his  way 
toward  the  water.  A  small  skiff  was  moored  there,  into 
which  he  quickly  placed  his  unconscious  burden,  taking 
;he  precaution,  however,  to  place  Leonie *s  hat,  one  tiny 
slipper,  and  a  shred  torn  from  her  dress,  conspicuously  on 
the  shore,  to  lead  to  the  impression  that  she  had  made 
away  with  herself. 

A  few  strokes  oi  the  oar§  and  they  were  skimming  over 
the  water.  Leonie's  swoon  had  lasted  so  long  Charlie  Hart 
had  become  frightened. 

At  a  lonely  isolated  spot  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  ha 
fastened  his  skiff,  and,  lilting  Leonie  from  the  boat,  rapidly 
made  his  way  toward  a  long,  low  stone  house,  standing 
quite  alone,  hi  the  midst  of  an  extensive  corn-field. 

Great  overarching  trees  and  a  high  wall  of  briers  com 
pletely  concealed  it  from  tlie  main  road,  and  a  wayfarer, 
struggling  through  that  unused  place  that  skirted  too 
river,  would  never  dream  of  a  human  habitation  in  such 
close  prcjnmity,  as  no  path  led  to  it  from  the  main  road. 

Charlie  Hart  seemed  no  stranger  in  that  locality.  Dark 
clouds,  every  now  and  then,  obscured  the  face  of  the  moon; 
but,  even  in  that  semi-darkness,  he  made  his  way,  with  hia 
heavy  burden,  through  the  dense  foliage  with  very  littJs 
difficulty. 

The  door  was  fastened  securely,  and  the  shutters  of  thd 
windows  closed.  There  seemed  no  signs  of  life  about  thif 
mysterious  habitation,  so  noar,  and  yet  so  far  removed 
from  the  maddening  crowd.  A  terrible,  death-like  oppres- 
vion  reigned  undisturbedly  around  the  stone-imbedded 
structure* 

He  gawt  a  peculiar  ra»>  upon  tae  door—once,  twice, 
ftrfet 

ague*  was  repealed  ton  tbt  inside,  and  Charfift 


LOOKIL  HH 

fart  fltoopad,  pressed  hia  lips  to  the  key-hole,  and  ottered  e 
tew  word*. 

There  was  a  low,  grating  sound,  and  the  door  m0  OB»» 
tjoosjy  opened. 


CHATTER 

xW  door  of  the  stone  hoose  was  opened  by  *  oautioog 
hand,  and  a  black,  woolly  head,  covered  by  a  bright  gay 
turban,  that  looked  strangely  weird  hi  the  uncertain  moon* 
light,  was  thrust  through  the  slight  opening,  to  make  sore 
there  had  been  no  deception  practiced  upon  the  suspiciona 
fcimate  of  this  strange  abode. 

44  Open  the  door  quickly,  Hagar,"  cried  Charlie  Hart, 
impatiently.  "  Don't  keep  me  standing  out  here  all  night. 
I've  somebody  in  my  arms  who  has  fainted." 

**  Lor*!  Marse  Hart,0  cried  the  old  woman,  flinging  the 
door  wide  open.  "  I  only  wanted  ter  make  shn*  it  war 
you,  shu*  'nnnV* 

Charlie  Hart  pushed  impatiently  past  her,  entered  the 
low-ceilinged  apartment  beyond,  and  laid  the  slight  figure 
of  Leonie  down  upon  a  rode  lounge  which  was  placed 
ftgainst  the  wall. 

44  Let  me  'tend  dat  ar  chile,  Marse  Hart,"  cried  the  old 
woman,  hobbling  after  him,  with  all  the  curiosity  of  her 
dbony  race.  "  111  fetch  her  to  quick  'nufL  You  men 
ion 't  nn'stan*  *bout  dem  'fairs."  As  she  spoke  she  had 
Buried  his  side,  and  proceeded  at  once  to  divest  Leonie  at 
the  thick  cloak  that  had  enveloped  her. 

44  Oh,  Lor*!"  she  cried  out  in  astonishment,  gazing 
down  on  the  marble-white  face.  "  Why,  Marse  Hart,  dia 
ttD't  no  chile;  she  am  a  young  lady,  an'  jest  aa  lovely  as  0 
burn  angei" 

"  Never  mind  making  comments,"  cried  Charlie  Bkt 

"Set  to  work  and  see  if  you  can  restore  her;  this  swoon  I 


LOCXR. 

Ins  lasted  over  an  honr;  the  deuce  and  al  would  t»  to  jx# 
tit  we  were  obliged  to  call  in  a  doctor." 

At  that  moment  an  adjoining  door  opened,  and  Rate 
Hardy  glided  quickly  into  the  room,  stopping  short  as  her 
astonished  gaze  fell  upon  the  slight  figure  in  the  trailing 
silken  robes,  and  crushed  roses  on  her  breast,  lying  on  tke 
.oungp, 

"  Who  in  the  world  is  this,  Charlie?"  she  cried,  taking 
A  step  or  two  forward;  then  she  recoiled  with  a  fearful 
shriek.  "It's  Leonie  Locke's  ghost  come  back  to  haunt 
we." 

In  an  instant  she  cast  herself  down  at  Hart's  feet,  her 
livid,  her  teeth  chattering,  and  her  great,  staring 
eyes  riveted  in  mortal  terror  on  Leonie's  face. 

She  quite  believed  it  was  Leonie's  ghost,  for  she  nevei 
she  had  been  saved  from  that  horrible  death  on  the 
mils  to  which  she  had  consigned  her.  After  fastening 
l*onie  securely,  Kate  Hardy  had  rushed  frantically  away 
into  the  darkness  of  the  night,  out  of  the  sound  of  the 
death-cries  that  each  moment  grew  fainter  and  fainter. 

Terrified  at  what  she  had  done,  she  dared  not  return  th3 
ue.it  day  to  the  work-room  of  Messrs.  Lincoln  &  Carlisle* 
but  had  fled  to  this  retreat  for  safety,  lest  by  some  strange 
chance  the  terrible  crime  she  had  committed  should  be 
come  known,  and  the  awful  mystery  of  that  night's  work 
she  had  kept  carefully  hidden  in  her  own  guilty  breast. 

It  was  little  wonder  she  stared  at  the  still,  slender  f  oim> 
4Hfcd  the  white  face  framed  in  its  silky  rings  of  soft  brow? 
9orls,  rith  a  terror  too  deep  for  words. 

"  Yea  have  either  gone  suddenly  mad,  or  you  are  £ 
fool!"  cried  Charlie  Hart,  angrily  spurning  the  girl  from 
him.  "  I  always  thought  before  that  you  had  a  littlfc 
Sense/' 

44  She  has  come  back  to  haunt  me,"  cried  the  girl,  kf 
yt  '*  just  as  I  ilwavs  Knew  sno  would." 


fcHONTE    LOOTE.  IBS 

It  wii8  some  moments  before  Kate  Hardy  ecnid  be  000- 
itoced  that  Leonie  really  lay  before  her. 

Then  suddenly  she  turned  upon  him  like  a  flash. 

"  How  came  the  girl  here?"  she  hissed,  in  a  voice  <u 
atoh  concentrated  rage  that  it  appalled  even  Charlie  Hart 

"  You  brought  her  here,"  she  screamed;  "  what  is  she 
lo  yon,  Charlie  Hart?  tell  me  the  whole  story— I  will  knov 
fclsay." 

For  a  moment  he  was  speechless  at  the  mad  torrent  oi 
Sate  Hardy's  impassioned  rage,  which  was  growing  fiercer 
flfloh  instant. 

"There  is  little  to  toll/'  he  replied,  with  a  grating 
laugh,  twirling  nervously  at  his  black  mustache.  "  There 
was  a  grand  ball  in  New  York  to-night;  I  gained  an  en 
trance  into  one  of  the  boudoirs,  and  was  helping  myself  to 
a  set  of  jewels  when  I  was  suddenly  faced  by  yonder  girl; 
fihe  tore  the  mask  from  my  face,  and  as  we  had  met  befott 
the  recognized  me,  and  aroused  the  whole  house  by  hf-r 
•creams.  I  could  not  stand  upon  ceremony  while  the  guests 
were  hammering  down  the  door;  I  hastily  wrapped  that 
•bawl  about  her  and  took  her  bodily  from  the  room  lest  she 
should  betray  me.  The  girl  fainted  with  fright,  and  has 
remained  in  that  death-like  swoon  ever  since.  I  dared  not 
leave  her,  and  there  was  no  other  feasible  course  to  parser 
than  to  bring  her  here,  which  I  accordingly  did." 

"  Ton  say  you  were  helping  yourself  to  the  diamonds; 
where  are  they?  show  them  to  me  and  I  will  believe  your 
story/'  answered  Kate  Hardy,  gazing  at  him  steadily  witb 
her  hard,  brilliant  eyes. 

Charlie  Hart  coolly  took  the  flashing  jewels  from  hie 
pocket  and  heaped  them  upon  the  table  before  her. 

There  was  proof  positive,  yet  Kate  was  loath  to  beneve 


"  Ton  loved  Leonie  Locke  once/*  she  whispered, 
V;  "  and  you  love  her  yet.  and  yen  have  dared  bring 
ttewterel 


uoexi. 

Charlie  Hart  knew  the  tigerish  Jealousy  cf  the  womtQ 
before  him  too  well  to  allow  that  statement  to  pass  unccw* 
tradicted. 

*'  It  is  false,"  he  eried,  doggedlj;  "  th«  girl  is  a  prude; 
I  admit  I  might  have  had  a  passing  fancy  for  her  at  one 
time,  but  she  snubbed  me  most  audaciously,  and  i  vowed  I 
would  be  revenged  upon  her,  for  vengeance  is  sweeter  thai 
love." 

Still  Kate  Hardy  was  hut  half  satisfied. 

"You  do  not  love  her?"  she  repeated,  suspiciously 
••  Swear  it!" 

"  By  all  the  saints  hi  the  calendar  if  you  like,"  he  re 
plied,  moodily.  "  Come,  Kate/'  he  added,  with  an  effort 
to  affect  a  gayety  he  was  far  from  feeling.  ' '  You  and  I 
can  not  afford  to  quarrel  over  such  trifles,  see  that  the  girl 
does  not  escape,  and  you  sliall  not  regret  it." 

"  How  can  it  benefit  me?"  she  asked,  eying  him  fixedly. 

*'  As  soon  as  1  can  turn  these  diamonds  into  cash  I  wi3 
<narry  you,  Kate,  and  we  will  fly  from  here.  Have  patience 
a  little  longer,  Kate." 

"  You  hav  promised  t  iat  often  enough  hefore,"  she  re« 
plied,  bitterly,  "  and  I'm  Kate  Hardy  still.  You  must  keep 
your  word  with  me." 

"  Haven't  I  done  everything  for  you  that  &  man  car 
fco?"  he  replied,  evasively — "  bought  this  house  and  deeded 
it  over  to  you — furnished  you  with  servants  and  money — '•' 

"  Everything  but  your  society,'*  she  cried,  angrily.  '*  I* 
fe  months,  now,  since  r  came  out  here  to  this  lonely  hoa% 
rad  waited  in  vain  for  you,  hut  you  never  came — nevarj 
Can  a  few  careiessjy  written  letters  suffice,  when  the  newt 
is  hungry  for  love  from  the  one  who  writes  them?  I  would 
have  willingly  died  for  your  love." 

Charlie  Hart  turnad  on  his  heel  with  a  muttered  cram 
1'he  love  of  this  jealous  woman  was  less  than  nothing  to 
bim:  but  she  knew  too  many  secrets  of  his  past  life  thai 
might  bring  bim  within  the  wj*  of  the  law  were  he  te 


LBOJSTIE    LOCKE.  19i 

freak  from  her  entirely.  Discretion  was  the  better  part  at 
Valor — let  her  go  on  with  her  silly  lore-dream.  Promise*, 
with  Charlie  Hart,  were  cheap  commoditiea--ea8fly  given* 
*nd,  like  glass,  easily  broken. 

Suddenly  he  turned  and  put  his  arm  about  her  waiefc 
more  to  appease  her  anger  than  from  any  feeling  of  affec 
tion. 

"  Don't  be  foolish,  Kate.  See  that  this  girl  is  kept  care 
fully  guarded  untfl  1  can  turn  everything  into  cash,  ftnfr 
then  I  will  make  good  all  the  promises  that  1  have  era 
made  you/' 

And,  woman-like,  even  while  she  mistrusted  him,  sh£ 
blindly  believed  him. 

4<  Heaven  help  you  if  you  play  me  false,  Ohariie!"  ehe 
whispered.  "  If  1  thought  you  loved  Leome  Locke  it 
would  make  a  fiend  incarnate  of  me,  and  all  my  pent-up, 
passionate  lore  would  turn  to  the  deadliest  hatel" 

"That's  all  nonsense,"  said  Charlie  Hart,  sharply. 
'*  You  know  you  couldn't  hate  me,  Kate,  no  matter  how 
hard  you  tried.  Yon  would  obey  me  if  it  ran  your  neck 
into  the  halter,  and  you  know  it. " 

"  I  would  if  I  were  sure  of  your  love,"  she  answered* 
slowly;  '*  but,  if  you  ever  made  love  to  another  woman,  I 
would  run  your  neck  into  the  halter  before  I  would  sm* 
render  you  to  her!" 

Charlie  Hart  laughed  at  the  low-breathed  threat;  btm 
there  came  a  day  when  he  remembered  it  all  too  well — a 
day  when  he  atoned,  at  a  fearful  cost,  for  the  daring 
crimes  he  had  committed,  and  the  hand  that  dealt  out  such 
terrible  justice  to  him  was  the  white  hand  of  a  woman! 

Kate  and  Charlie  Hart  had  scarcely  quitted  the  apart 
ment,  ere  two  great  wondering  velvety-brown  eyes  flashed 
open  wide,  gazing  with  a  puzzled  expression  into  the  blaoto 
face  bending  over  her. 

"  Dar,  now,"  chuckled  the  old  woman,  trimnplatttXy, 
"  you're  all  right  now.  nonev.  Oto  Hagar  wa'n'*  gofe*  tft 


let  a  party  angei  iike  you  die  afore  her 

I'M  powerful  glad  tor  see  dem  eyes  open,  Meed  I  is,  chitoi* 

"  Where  am  IP  How  did  I  come  in  your  house?"  fen 
quired  Leonie,  faintly. 

The  old  black  woman  looked  cautioosly  around  to  mate 
sore  they  were  quite  alone,  hesitated  a  moment,  tht* 
loaned  down  and  whispered  ?  few  startling  words  in  the 
young  girl's  ears  that  macb  her  ay  act  In  terror 


OHAFTEE 

IdXB  the  sound  of  a  trumpet,  the  words  black  Hagv 
ottered  fell  upon  the  startled  ear  of  Leonie,  and  fairij 
dazed  her  senses. 

"  You'se  in  a  den  of  thieves,  chile,  an'  de  cappen  hissef 
brought  you  here  in  his  arms  in  a  dead  faint,  deed  he  did, 
dule."  ' 

In  a  moment  the  whole  scene  through  which  she  had  so 
lately  passed  rushed  back  to  Leonie's  memory.  The  thrill 
ing  sensation  of  awaking  from  the  dream  into  which  she 
had  fallen,  and  finding  the  masked  midnight  plunderer 
bending  over  her  jewel  case,  tearing  the  mask  from  hia 
features  and  finding  herself  face  to  face  with  the  man  whe 
had  cursed  her  young  life — Charlie  Hart — the  man  who 
could  claim  her  at  any  moment  he  chose  as  his  wife. 

Oh,  what  a  world  of  misery  was  compressed  into  the 
awful  thought;  there  was  no  torture  under  the  o.'v 
heavens  that  could  equal  it 

Had  God  and  the  angels  forsaken  her?  Could  her  angel 
mother,  whom  she  had  never  known,  look  down  upon  thi 
misery  and  persecution  of  her  orphan  child  without  appeal* 
ing  at  the  great  white  throne  for  mercy  and  protection  for 
her  poor  Leonie  F  the  world  below  was  so  cruel  and  so  basi 
lor  her. 

64  You,  at  least,  have  a  oood*  kind  heart/'  sobbed  to 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  197 

onie,  kneeling  at  the  old  colored  woman's  feet,  ' '  you  will 
surely  unbar  the  door  and  set  me  free.  I  have  friends 
who  will  mourn  my  loss  keenly.  I  am  rich,  and  you  shall 
never  know  the  lack  of  gold.  Only  set  me  free." 

"Chile,  I  wouldn't  dare  do  it,"  declared  Hagar.  "  I'se 
powerful  'fraid  of  Marse  Hart,  he's  a  reg'lar  debbil.  An* 
says  he  when  he  left  de  room,  'Hagar,  I'se  gwine  ter 
leave  dat  gal  under  your  eye,  an'  ef  I  don't  find  she  am 
here  when  I  come  back,  I  wouldn't  give  much  for  your 
ole  black  hide,  you  mind  my  words  ! '  so  you  see,  honey, 
Tse  too  'fraid  ter  opin  dat  ar  door." 

"Oh,  useless,  useless  ! "  groaned  Leonie,  wringing  her 
little,  white  hands  in  the  most  abject  misery,  "  the  fates 
have  conspired  to  ruin  me.  Oh,  Hagar,  Hagar,  you  pity 
me,  your  heart  is  not  dead  to  pity.  If  you  saw  a  little 
bird  lying  in  the  path  beneath  your  feet,  slowly  dying, 
with  an  arrow  wound  in  its  poor,  bleeding  heart,  you  could 
not  bear  to  witness  its  agonizing  death  throes;  you  would 
end  its  poor  life  at  once  to  put  it  out  of  pain,  and  God 
would  look  down  and  bless  you  for  being  so  humane  and 
kind.  I  am  suffering  the  agonies  of  a  living  death, 
Hagar,  just  like  that  poor  bird  ;  be  kind  and  end  it  for 
me,  and  with  my  last  breath  I  will  bless  you." 

"Lor',  chile,  don't  you  talk  like  dat,  I  wouldn't  tech 
one  hair  of  yer  putty  head  for  all  Marse  Hart's  ill-gotten 
wealth.  I  jes  wants  ter  tell  ye  sumfin',"  said  the  old 
woman  dropping  her  voice  to  a  mysterious  whisper,  "ole 
Hagar  can  see  strange  things  in  de  pink  palms  'o  your 
little,  white  hands." 

And  as  she  spoke  she  studied  intently  the  small  lines 
that  crossed  the  palm  of  Leonie's  slender  hand. 

Even  in  the  moments  of  our  most  intense  grief,  slight, 
causes  can  turn  our  distracted  thoughts  into  other  chan 
nels,  and  it  was  so  with  our  unfortunate  heroine,  Leonie. 
She  turned  her  large  brown  eyes  on  Hagar's  mysterious, 
face  and  listened. 


"Iw 

fct  da  line  o'  love  cornea  to  a  sadden  stop  here,  de  liaa  wax 
powerful  deep.  J  reckon  he  wmr  •  fair  roan  who  loved  yer, 
honey.  It  stops  of  *  eoddia;  dar  be  irregular  lines  here 
an*  dar,  dat  means  a  tragedy,  an'  then,  way  the  Lor'  bless 
OB,  chile,  dat  ar  sane  line  o'  lore  begins  again  an'  con 
toners." 

"Oh*  don't,  don't!"  ohed  Loonie,  drawing  away  tun 
little  white  hand  with  a  perceptible  shudder;  "  there  will 
be  no  more  love  in  my  lifa  1  did  love  some  one  once,  bat 
the  son  of  that  lore  set  in  sndden  gloom.  I  loved  him, 
but  be  never  loved  me,  Hagar.  i  was  poor  then,  and  he 
was  the  son  of  a  millionaire.  It  is  all  over  between  us  long 
ago,  and  he  is  soon  to  marry  another— one  whom  he  was 
engaged  to  while  he  was  whispering  tender  words  to  me." 

4*  Dat  ar  man  loves  yon,"  persisted  Hagar,  solemnly. 
**  I  kin  read  it  hyar— ole  Hagar  kin  tell— an*  Fse  clair  dat 
afar  line  o*  love  begins  agin — true's  yer  born,  honey!" 

It  was  madness  to  listen  to  the  senseless  jargon  of  this 
superstitious  old  colored  woman.  She  must  not  dare  to 
dream  of  such  a  possibility  as  Gordon  Carlisle's  love.  Oh, 
'what  utter  folly  to  listen  to  it!  Her  love  had  been  built  on 
the  quicksands — not  on  a  rock — and  the  sands  had  shifted 
and  her  love-dream  broken.  His  loving  words,  his  smiles 
and  tender  caresses,  were  not  for  her — Heaven  had  not  so 
willed  it— they  were  all  for  Dora  Lancaster,  who  was  soon 
to  be  his  bride. 

v  *Tbe  strange,  mysterious  secret  which  was  so  soon  to 
Darken  her  life  trembled  upon  Hagar  s  lips  as  she  gazed 
-with  breathless  intensity  at  the  small  white  hand  she  held, 
and  of  the  story  it  told  to  her  searching  eyes;  but  as  her 
lips  framed  the  words,  tho  d^0r  opened  and  Charlie  Hart 
entered.  ' 

Ha  pointed  to  the   ^oarf  ana  Hagar,  well  used  to  that 
*ileut.  command,  ao^&ied  out,  managing,  howevec,  to  wais* 
in  J^onj^*  ear: 


LEOSTIE    LOCKS.  199 


da  Lor's  sake,  chile,  don't  *ile  him!    Yon  don* 
3BOW  Marse  Hart  like  I  do.  Kemember  Hagar'a  warning.  '• 

The  door  closed  after  her  retreating  form,  and  iii  the 
dim,  uncertain  light  of  the  candle  Ijecnie  aziJ  aer  cruel 
persecutor  stood  face  to  face. 

As  if  possessed  with  superhuman  strength,  Leonie  arose 
from  the  lounge. 

**  1  see  I  am  in  your  power  again,**  she  cried,  with  flash 
ing  eyes.  <k  But  I  do  not  fear  yon  now;  your  persecutions 
have  rendered  me  desperate.  I  scorn  you  —  yes,  despise 
you  I  Go  fling  to  the  world  your  shameful  story  —  trace  out 
for  the  officials  those  fatal  words  on  the  paper  they  are  try 
ing  so  hard  to  decipher;  I  do  not  care  for  the  result  I" 

"  Have  you  finished?"  asked  Charlie  Hart,  coolly,  as  he 
seated  himself  on  the  lounge  from  which  she  had  risen. 

"  No/'  answered  Leonie,  with  a  flash  of  triumph,  "  I 
have  not  finished.  I  will  proclaim  to  the  world  what  yon 
are  —  a  plunderer,  as  well  as  a  persecutor  of  women." 

Charlie  Hart  laughed  aloud. 

•*  What  a  clever  idea,  my  beautiful,  scornful  bride  I"  hd 
answered,  tauntingly.  "  But,  as  yon  will  be  obliged  to 
live  with  me,  all  the  charges  you  bring  up  against  me  will 
but  reflect  upon  you,  in  the  end.  If  you  had  been  wise, 
>ou  would  have  accepted  the  inevitable  with  all  the  grace 
possible.  We  would  have  been,  like  many  others,  a  pat 
tern  husband  and  wife  before  the  censorious  eyes  of  the 
.world,  and  no  one  would  have  guessed  the  troe  inwardness 
(of  existing  infelicity/' 

"  Yon  astonish  me  I*'  retorted  Leonis,  in  superb  scorn, 
drawing  herself  np  to  her  full  height  "  Accept  a  thief,  a 
house-breaker  as  a  life  companion!  I  thank  yon  for  your 
opinion  of  my  powers  of  endurance.  Oh,  how  1  de* 
yon,  fiend  that  you  are!" 

it  yon  could  strike  me  dead  with  the  lightning  of  those 
eyes,  1  am  sure  yon  would  do  it,"  laughed  Charlft 
fcw&to&iy,  as  ae  .tew 


frankly  that  I  wsoH  do  ft," 
low  only  wonder  God  iiafl  permitted  yoo  U 


"Well,  if  700  are  through  with  that  high-tragedy  act,  I 
wffl  toll  yoo  my  plans/' he  went  on,  coolly.  "  I  am  going 
to  take  you  away  from  here — this  house,  I  mean — in  er 
floor  from  now.  Hagar  will  bring  yon  an  outfit  of  suitable 
jelothing,  which  you  will  kindly  don  at  once,  as  that  trail 
ing  white  ailk  you  have  on  is  hardly  the  thing  for  the  jour- 
ney  we  shall  make.  I  shall  return  with  a  conveyance  in* 
Bide  of  an  boor — see  that  yon  are  ready,  my  defiant  love;7' 
and  with  another  of  those  peculiar  laughs  that  was  so  taunt 
ing  to  hear,  he  kissed  his  finger-tips  to  her  and  left  the 


Close  by  the  door-way,  screened  by  the  dec  Be  ixnpenetra* 
ble  shadows,  crouched  the  figure  of  Kate  Hardy,  but 
Charlie  Hart  never  dreamed  of  her  close  proximity. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha!"  she  chuckled,  raising  her  clinched  hand 
and  *bftlnng  it  after  his  retreating  figure.  ' '  So  that  is  your 
game,  is  it,  to  take  Leonie  Locke  secretly  away  from  the 
house,  and  fly  with  her  out  of  range  of  my  vengeance!  We 
shall  see — we  shall  see!'9  Her  set  face  was  as  white  aa 
death  itself,  her  eyes  gleamed  with  a  sudden  deathly  pur 
pose.  "  He  would  leave  me,  and  fly  with  her/'  she  mut 
tered,  bitterly.  "  Dupe,  fool  that  1  was  to  believe  the  lie 
that  he  told  me — he  did  not  care  for  her.  And  he  thought 
to  fool  me,  too,  by  making  arrangements  to  have  her  kept 
a  prisoner  here,  while  in  his  heart  it  was  but  a  lie  to  still  my 
suspicions,  for  he  intended  to  steal  her  secretly  away  this 
rery  night,  and  by  the  time  the  sun  rose,  my  false  lover 
would  be  far  away.  But,  by  the  heavens  above,  I  swear 
that  she  shall  never  have  him!  I  sought  a  t  rrible  vengo* 
Mice  on  her  once  before,  and  I  rested  content  all  these 
months  because  1  believed  her  dead — 795,  dead,  and  out  of 
tiharlie's  way  and  rnina  toeveKi  _  An  hour!  Ha,  ha/  he 


LBONTE    LOCKE.  201 

will  not  return  until  that  time.  He  will  see  what  has  be 
fallen  his  beautiful  Leonie  when  he  returns  I " 

A  few  moments  later,  Kate  Hardy  crept  stealthily 
through  the  halls,  carrying  a  small  tin  box.  She  opened 
the  door  of  the  room  in  which  Leonie  sat,  glided  in  as 
swiftly  as  a  shadow,  scattering  the  contents  of  the  box 
about  on  the  floor  very  silently,  in  all  directions,  also  scat 
tering  the  dark  grains  about  through  the  hall  in  a  long, 
straight,  narrow  line. 

Her  fertile  brain  had  concocted  a  most  diabolical  scheme. 
The  contents  of  the  box  was — gunpowder! 

Another  moment  and  she  had  lighted  a  match  to  the  ex 
plosive  material,  and  a  second  after,  the  house  was  one 
terrible  blaze  of  raging,  devouring  flames. 


CHAPTER  XXXVHL 

IN  a  single  instant  the  powder  ignited,  and  the  stone 
house  was  wrapped  in  a  sheet  of  lurid  flame. 

Kate  Hardy  stood  watching  the  terrible  scene,  her  lips 
tightly  compressed,  and  her  eyes  blazing  triumphantly. 
Great  columns  of  smoke  poured  from  every  casement,  fol 
lowed  by  a  volcano  of  starry  sparks  and  a  deafening  sound 
of  crashing  timber. 

"  No  one  can  save  you,  Leonie  Locke \"  cried  Kate 
Hardy,  uttering  a  wild,  eldritch  laugh,  that  rang  far  out 
over  the  waving  corn-fields.  "  You  can  never  cross  his 
path  again — you  shall  never  rest  in  my  lover's  arms.  I 
have  taken  a  glorious  vengeance  upon  you — a  glorious  re 
venge!" 

A  half  hour,  then  an  hour,  passed  by.  The  flames  had 
done  their  work  but  too  well;  the  interior  of  the  house  was 
one  mass  of  glowing  coals,  and  the  grim,  blackened  stone 
walls  inclosed  them  like  a  monument. 

The  wheat  and  com.  in  the  fields  near  by  fere  scorched 


LBOJTIE    LOCKS. 

aad  bending  earthward,  and  the  leaves  had  succumbed  to 
the  intense  heat,  and  had  fallen  from  the  trees. 

In  the  distance  the  sound  of  carriage-wheels  could  be 
heard  advancing  rapidly. 

"  He  has  come  for  Leonie  Locke,"  muttered  Kate, 
screening  herself  behind  a  network  of  bushes.  "  I  will  see 
how  he  takes  it,  and  then — then — " 

Before  she  could  finish  the  sentence,  Charlie  Hart  had 
dashed  up  breathlessly  to  the  spot  There  was  a  hoarse 
cry  of  mingled  horror  and  rage  that  echoed  weirdly  on  the 
still  night  air,  and,  in  his  intense  excitement,  Charlie  Ha'-t 
had  recklessly  thrown  off  his  coat,  with  the  daring  deter^ 
minatiou  of  dashing  through  the  ruins  in  search  of  some 
token  that  might  tell  him  of  Leonie's  fate. 

"  Leonie!  Leonie!"  he  cried  out.  "  Oh,  my  God,  how 
can  I  ever  live  without  you!" 

A  strange  mocking  smile  played  around  the  lips  of  the 
enraged  woman  who  was  watching  him  so  breathlessly  be 
hind  the  bushes. 

"  He  does  not  mourn  for  me,"  she  muttered,  hoarsely; 
"  it  is  only  Leonie  Locke  for  whom  he  grieves.  He  must 
not  leap  into  that  horrible  furnace — I  must  save  him!"  sho 
cried,  Another  moment  and  she  had  reached  his  side,  and 
laid  her  hand  heavily  on  his  arm  with  a  strong  detaining 
clasp. 

Their  eyes  met,  and  in  that  instantaneous  glance,  Charlie 
Hart  knew  as  well  as  though  she  had  told  him,  that  this 
was  her  work. 

"  You  need  not  look  for  your  love/*  she  cried,  mock 
ingly,  pointing  to  the  hissing,  craekling  flames,  "  for  she  is 
there!  You  shall  never  look  upon  her  face  again.  1  vowed 
that  I  would  Dart  you,  and  I  have  kept  my  vow!" 

"  You  fiend  incarnate!  I  should  make  you  share  the 
same  fate!"  cried  Hart,  hoarsely  and  threateningly.  "I 
as  well  own  UD  the  truth  to  you:  I  never  loved  yon, 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  203 

(rat  1  did  love,  to  the  very  verge  of  madness,  beautiful  Le 
tt  lie  Locke!" 

"  And  you  dare  tell  me  this  to  my  face?"  cried  Kate 
Hardy,  fairly  livid  with  rage.  "  You,  who  cheated  me 
into  the  belief  we  were  to  leave  the  country  together  to 
morrow — I  as  your  happy  bride — and  all  the  while  you  in 
tended  to  be  far  away  by  that  time,  with  Leonie  Locke!" 

"  You  have  guessed  it,"  admitted  Charlie  Hart,  moodily; 
"  JL  do  not  wish  to  deny  it" 

"  Charlie,"  she  whispered,  taking  a  step  nearer  to  him, 
"  take  care!  You  are  goading  me  to  madness.  I  love  you 
with  a  love  so  intense  it  is  the  mainspring  of  my  whole  ex 
istence.  Take  care  that  you  do  not  turn  it  to  deadliest 
hate — even  the  worm  can  turn  and  wound  the  heel  that 
crushes  it.  Come  away,  Charlie;  we  will  go  far  away  from 
nere,  and  be  happy  together  once  again — as  happy  as  we 
were  before  that  girl  came  between  us." 

Her  long  dark  hair  had  become  loosened,  hnd  swept 
about  her  white,  passionate  face  hi  wild  disorder,  waving 
to  and  fro  on  the  night  breeze.  Her  hands  were  clasped 
pleadingly,  beseechingly  before  her,  betokening  entreaty. 

"  Have  done  with  such  nonsense,  now  and  forever!" 
ovied  Hart,  turning  on  his  heel.  "  You  may  as  well  know 
the  truth  now  as  at  any  other  time.  I  disliked  you  before, 
but  now  I  despise  you.  Out  of  my  sight,  before  I  take  full 
vengeance  upon  you  for  the  death  of  lovely  Leonie  Locke  I39 

A  low,  taunting  laugh  answered  him;  and  he  knew  the 
df^erate  woman  standing  before  him  too  well  to  trust 
hunhtfl:  a  single  instant  longer  in  her  presence,  and,  wheel 
ing  suddenly  about,  before  she  had  time  to  divine  his  intea  ^ 
tions,  with  a  few  flying  strides  h,  had  reached  his  carriage 
again,  applied  the  whip  vigorously  to  the  mettlesome  horse, 
and  was  dashing  like  the  wind  over  the  uneven  road  era 
Hardy  fully  realized  the  situation. 

"  Soaael"  eead   Kate,  boarselv,  jgeating  her  clinched 


904  LBOHIE    LOCKE. 

hands  upon  her  heaving  breast     "  He  h&>  gone  and  left 
me!    Let  me  think  what  I  must  lo." 

In  that  moment  all  the  love  in  her  heart  toward  her 
faithless  lover  underwent  a  terrible  change.  Again  the 
words  of  the  poet  were  fulfilled — or  verified,  rather: 

"  Hefl  hath  no  fury  like  a  woman  scorned.  *' 

We  must  now  return  to  Leonie  whom  we  left  lying  on 
the  rude  couch,  sobbing  as  though  her  heart  would  break, 
as  the  cruel  words  of  Charlie  Hart  rang  in  her  ears  as  he 
quitted  the  apartment: 

"  You  must  be  ready  to  leave  this  place  in  an  hour  from 
now;  for  at  that  time  I  shall  return,  and  be  forced  to  make- 
you  accompany  me — by  fair  means,  or  the  reverse." 

"  What  is  the  use  of  battling  against  adverse  fate?"  Le 
onie  asked  herself  bitterly.     Her  strength  was  gone — sh& 
was  getting  too  weak  to  hold  out  against  him  much  longer. 
Oh,  if  death  would  only  come  and  claim  her! 

It  is  a  terrible  thing  for  youthful  lips  to  utter  such 
words — when  the  world  is  so  bitter  and  hard  they  fain  would 
leave  it.  What  must  the  dreary  after  years  of  their  life  be 
unless  relief  comes  to  them  in  some  form? 

"  I  shall  never  consent  to  be  Charlie  Hart's  wife/'  she 
gasped,  breaking  down  completely,  her  slight  form  shaking 
with  convulsive  sobs.  <4  He  may  force  me  to  it,  and  the 
world  may  call  me  his  wife,  but  it  shall  be  in  name  only. " 

And  lying  there,  face  downward  upon  the  lounge,  listen- 
Ing  to  the  wind  sighing  fitfully  among  the  branches  of  the 
pines  outside,  she  thought  of  the  sad  story  of  poor  Lady 
Jean,  whose  sad  life  had  been  such  a  pitiful  poem,  all 
shadowy  darkness  with  no  gleam  of  light  penetrating  the 
gloom.  And  quite  unconsciously  Leonie  compared  her  own 
sorrowful  life  to  the  sad  tragedy  that  darkened  the  life  of 
poor  Lady  Jean. 

She  had  been  an  artist,  known  to  fame  long  years  ago  by 
/ier  pictures  of  traaiO  fluttering.  Her  subjects  were  always1 


LEOKIE    LOCKE.  80S 

girls,  and  over  their  heads  in  the  shadowy  back 
ground  those  who  studied  her  pictures  keenly  could  dio* 
cern  above  their  heads  a  sword  hanging  by  a  single 
thread. 

It  might  have  been  only  fancy  that  led  the  net-work  of 
clouds  in  the  background  to  take  such  a  peculiar  form,  yet 
it  was  noticeable  the  sword  was  always  there. 

One  morning  her  studio  was  not  opened  at  the  usual 
hour  and  the  room  was  forcibly  entered.  Lady  Jean  sat 
before  a  portrait,  brush  in  hand,  her  cheek  pressed  close 
against  the  canvas,  and  the  group  who  gathered  around 
her  with  bated  breath  saw  that  she  had  painted  her  own 
portrait,  and  on  her  head  the  sword  had  fallen,  and  with 
the  last  stroke  of  the  brush  her  life  had  ended,  and  the 
world  never  knew  the  pitiful  shadow  that  had  haunted  the 
life  of  poor  Lady  Jean. 

Just  such  a  pitiful  shadow  haunted  Leonie's  life,  and 
over  her  head  hung  a  flaming  sword  that  would  fall  within 
an  hour — but  her  life  would  drag  wearily  on  to  the  end, 
she  told  herself. 

While  Leonie  was  ruminating  upon  the  fate  that  was  so 
soon  to  overtake  her,  a  tongue  of  flame  crept  beneath  the 
door,  and,  like  a  flash,  the  dark  grains  of  powder  sprinkled 
about  on  the  floor  ignited,  and  in  a  single  instant  the  room 
was  wrapped  in  a  sheet  of  flame. 

The  very  horror  of  the  thrilling  situation  for  a  moment 
paralyzed  Leonie's  senses. 

She  had  prayed  for  death,  and  now  it  was  thrust  sud 
denly  upon  her  in  the  mad,  riotous  flames.  If  it  had  come 
upon  her  in  any  other  form  she  would  have  welcomed  it 
gladly,  but  not  this  way,  oh,  not  this  way ! 

The  door  was  barred  upon  the  outside,  there  was  no 
escape. 

In  vain  the  voice  of  the  terrified  girl  rang  out  over  the 
fierce  crackling  of  the  flames.  The  dense  smoke  was  blind 
ing  her,  and  each  jnatanfc  the  heat  grew  more  intense  and 


208  IfiOHIE    LOCKE. 

the  tongues  of  fire  leaped  nearer  and  nearer,  scorching  tna 
curls  upon  the  frightened  girl. 

"  I  am  coming,  mother,"  she  sobbed.  "  I  will  dis 
bravely!  God  never  intended  me  to  be  Charlie  Hart's 
wife!"  and  Leonie  gave  herself  up  to  her  horrible  fate. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

WE  must  now  return,  dear  reader,  to  the  scene  in  the 
boudoir,  when  Mrs.  Barrett  returned  and  discovered  Le- 
onie's  absence. 

In  a  moment  the  corridor  was  filled  with  a  breathless 
throng,  anxious  to  get  at  the  particulars  of  the  strange  dis- 
appearance.  Was  she  kidnapped  or  had  she  eloped?  were 
the  questions  whispered  about  and  commented  freely  upon 
by  the  ladies. 

Servants  were  dispatched  in  all  directions  to  search  for 
her.  There  was  no  more  festivity  at  the  ball  that  night; 
every  one  felt  anxious  over  the  mysterious  disappearance  of 
the  lovely  young  heiress,  who  had  left  no  clew  whatever  to 
her  absence. 

Gordon  Carlisle  had  escorted  Dora  home  at  once,  when 
the  strange  affair  reached  his  ears,  and  with  a  party  of 
gentlemen  headed  the  band  of  diligent  searchers.  His 
handsome  face  was  pale  as  death  itself,  and  there  were 
deep  lines  of  intense  pain  and  anxiety  upon  it  that  should 
not  have  been  on  that  noble  brow  for  long  years  to  come. 

Dora  Lancaster  never  forgot  that  ride  home  in  the 
coach.  Not  one  thought  was  given  to  her,  and  she  knew 
by  the  sighs  that  trembled  on  his  lips  that  he  was  thinking 
of  Leonie  Locke. 

"  How  foolish  you  are,  Gordon,  for  joining  in  this 
search!"  she  said,  laying  her  white  jeweled  hand  on  his 
arm.  "No  doubt  the  girl  has  eloped  with  some  coach 
man,  and  is  enjoying  hugely  the  scare  she  is  giving  every 
one: "  He  did  no^pe**11*  *"4  D^ra  «r«nt  on  triumphantly: 


LEONIB    LOCKE.  207 

**  She  only  wanted  to  create  a  sensation  and  break  up  the 
ball  because  she  was  not  set  down  as  the  belle/" 

"  Don't  Dora;  you  do  not  know  how  your  words  pant 
me,"  replied  Gordon,  huskily.  "  I  can  feel  in  my  heart 
that  danger  threatens  her — and  I  not  near  to  defend  her!" 

"  I— I — beg  your  pardon  for  asking  you  such  an  imper 
tinent  question,  but  do  you  still  care  for  her  hi  the  old, 
fond  way,  Gordon?" 

"  I  shall  love  Leonie  Locke  while  life  lasts,"  he  re*: 
turned,  quietly.  "  Love  such  as  I  feel  for  her  can  never 
die — never!  Do  not  open  that  old  wound,  Dora;  it  pains 
me  too  deeply." 

It  was  quite  as  much  of  a  mystery  to  Dora  as  it  was  tc* 
Gordon,  what  had  become  of  Leonie.  At  first,  in  her  sus 
picious  heart  she  had  believed  he  had  been  in  some  way 
connected  with  her  strange  disappearance;  but  his  poignant 
grief,  which  he  was  too  honorable  to  feign,  was  too  plainly 
apparent  to  admit  of  a  doubt. 

"  When  shall  I  see  you  again,  Gordon?"  she  askedr 
clinging  to  his  hand,  as  they  parted  in  the  vestibule. 

"Not  until  after  I  have  found  Leonie,  or  learned  her 
fate,"  he  answered,  gravely;  and,  giving 'her  a  kindly 
message  for  his  mother,  Gordon  Carlisle  re-entered  his 
coach  and  started  on  his  fruitless  search. 

When  the  gray  dawn  broke  he  was  standing  on  the  dock, 
and  was  the  first  to  discover  the  littla  pink  slipper,  half 
hidden  in  the  sand,  and  those  who  heard  the  anguished  cry- 
that  fell  from  his  lips  remembered  it  while  their  life  lasted. 

"  Drowned!"  was  the  whispered  word  tnat  went  from 
lip  to  lip,  as  the  gentlemen  gazed  into  each  other's  pallid 
face. 

"  Drowned! — lying  beneath  those  waves!"  were  the  cruel 
words  that  drove  Gordon  Carlisle  mad  with  the  bitterness 
of  his  woe. 

They  could  not  realize  it.  How  had  it  happened?  What 
had  taken  Leonie  Lfickfla.  the.  beautiful,  petted  young  heir 


208  LBONIE    LOCKE. 

ess  dovn  to  the  dark  water,  while  the  sweet,  gay  music  of 
the  ball-room  she  had  just  left  was  bubbling  with  life  and 
mirth? 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  tiny  slipper,  for,  upon  the 
inside,  it  bore  the  name  "  Leonie,"  and  the  shred  of  silk 
found  near  it  matched  the  dress  Gordon  had  remembered 
seeing  her  wear. 

"  There  was  proof  positive  that  she  was  drowned." 

Gordon  Carlisle  heard  them  whisper  the  words  like  one 
in  a  dream.  How  could  the  sun  shine  and  the  birds  sing 
again  when  that  beautiful  head,  with  its  dark  curling  hair, 
lay  buried  beneath  the  smiling  waves? 

What  awful  storm  of  agony  had  driven  her  to  the  water? 
Had  she  gone  there  purposely?  Had  she  wandered  away 
from  the  lights  and  the  music  to  the  edge  of  the  water  and 
fallen  in?  Or  was  there  a  deeper  mystery?  No  search 
could  be  made,  for  the  body  must  have  drifted  out  to  sea 
long  hours  ago. 

All  the  papers,  with  one  accord,  accepted  the  theory  that 
the  beautiful  young  heiress  had  wandered  too  near  the 
water  and  had  fallen  in,  and  had  been  carried  out  to  sea. 

No  inducement  could  make  Gordon  Carlisle  give  up  the 
little  pink  slipper.  It  seemed  to  him  a  living  remembrance 
of  the  young  girl  whom  he  had  loved  so  well  and  lost! 

•From  the  water  Gordon  Carlisle  went  straight  to  his 
hotel,  shut  himself  up  in  his  room,  and  then  the  strength 
of  his  manhood  gave  way,  and  he  wept  as  he  had  never 
wept  before.  Was  there  ever  a  love  as  faithful  and  true  as 
his  had  been  for  Leonie  Locke — and  was  there  ever  an 
ending  more  pitiful? 

There  was  nothing  left  to  live  for  now,  since  Leonie  was 
gone,  and  Gordon  Carlisle  decided  to  go  abroad;  and  that 
one  decision  changed  the  current  of  two  lives. 

Meanwhile,  at  that  self-same  moment,  far  away  in  the 
stone  house  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson,  Leonie  stood  in 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  2C8 

deadly  peril,  the  scorching  breath  of  the  fire-fiend  creeping 
nearer  and  nearer. 

She  determined  to  meet  her  death  bravely,  if  die  she 
must,  and,  with  a  prayer  on  her  lips,  she  sunk  down  on 
her  knees,  awaiting  her  doom;  but,  at  that  critical  mo 
ment,  the  door  was  hastily  flung  open,  and  black  Hagar 
appeared  in  the  door-way.  Her  eyes  almost  protruded 
from  their  sockets  in  abject  terror  at  the  fiery  scene  pre 
sented  to  view. 

"  Some  one  has  set  the  house  on  fire,  Miss  Leonie,"  she 
screamed,  forcing  her  way  through  the  flames  to  the  girl's 
side,  "  an'  alJ  'scape  is  nearly  cut  off.  Come  along,  Miss 
Leonie,"  she  cried;  "  we  must  save  ourselves  if  we  can." 

But  now,  with  help  so  near  at  hand,  all  Leonie's  strength 
seemed  to  leave  her,  she  had  been  through  so  many  thrill 
ing  scenes  of  late. 

"  Save  yourself,  never  mind  me,  Hagar,"  she  said,  and, 
swaying  to  and  fro,  she  would  have  fallen  in  a  dead  faint, 
an  easy  victim  to  the  flames,  had  not  Hagar  stretched  out 
her  arms  and  caught  her. 

Around  the  fearless  Hagar  the  flames  rose  high,  threat 
ening  every  instant  to  fold  her  in  their  dread  embrace. 

But  with  the  strength  of  desperation,  Hagar  fought  her 
way  through  them,  with  the  slight  form  of  Leonie  clasped 
closely  in  her  arms. 

The  entrances  had  all  been  carefully  locked  beforehand 
by  Kate  Hardy,  but,  with  all  the  strength  born  of  despera 
tion,  Hagar  threw  her  ponderous  form  against  them,  and 
the  doors  were  soon  crashing  down  right  and  left  as  she 
made  her  way  through  the  net-work  of  halls  toward  the 
outer  door,  which  had  been  fortunately  overlooked  by  Kate 
as  she  quitted  the  doomed  house. 

The  soft,  cool  breeze  upon  her  face  restored  Leonie,  and 
with  a  thankfulness  too  deep  for  utterance  she  found  she 
had  been  saved  from  the  terrible  late  that  had  seemed  to 


210  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

l>e  closing  in  around  her—saved  by  the  kind-hearted  black 
woman. 

Hagar  had  laid  her  down  in  the  corn-field  and  had  sank 
down  to  rest  beside  her. 

"  I  reckon,  chile,  that  ere  was  a  plot  to  destroy  you  an' 
J;  'deed  I  does,  fer  that  black-eyed  woman  hated  yer  power 
ful  bad." 

"  What  black-eyed  woman?"  asked  Leonie  in  puzzled 
3*mazemeiit.  "  1  saw  no  woman  there  except  yourself." 

*'  Her  name's  Kate  Hardy;  I  am  housekeeper  for  her/ 
'whispered  Hagar. 

Leonie  recoiled  as  though  a  blow  had  been  suddenly 
xlealt  her. 

•"  Kate  Hardy!" 

'She  repeated  the  name  with  white,  compressed  lips,  and 
she  well  knew  then  that  Hagar  s  shrewd  surmise  had  been 
< correct — the  house  had  been  intentionally  fired,  and  for  the 
purpose  of  destroying  her. 

The  thought  gave  Leonie  new  energy. 

"  She  here!"  she  exclaimed,  tremulously,  "  then  let  us 
get  far  away  from  here,  Hagar;  we  must  move  on  at  once. 
She  would  take  a  terrible  vengeance  upon  us  if  she  found 
that  we  had  escaped." 

To  this  Hagar  readily  assented,  and  they  moved  on  as 
rapidly  as  they  could  make  their  way  through  the  corn 
fields  toward  the  main  road. 

"  Where  are  we,  Hagar?"  asked  Leonie,  glancing  in  be- 
rwilderment  around  her,  4f  how  far  are  we  from  New  York 
"City?" 

*'  Hush,"  whispered  Hagar,  warningly;  and  with  all  the 
cunning  of  her  race,  she  bent  hurriedly  down  among  the 
grass,  placing  her  ear  close  to  the  ground  in  a  listening 
attitude.  "  Some  one's  comin',  I  ken  h'ar  bosses'  hoofs 
tearin'  along  like  mad,  an'  there's  a  sound  too  of  carriage 
.wheels." 

"  Oh,  it  is  Charlie, Hart!"  cried  Leonie,  a  death-like  de* 


LEON  IE    LOCKE.  211 

spair  seizing  her,  "  lie  said  he  was  coming  back  for  me  in 

an  hour.    There  is  no  place  to  hide  myself.  Oh,  Father  in 
heaven,  I  am  lost— lost— lost!" 


CHAPTER  XL. 

NEARER  and  nearer  came  the  vehicle,  the  sound  of  the 
wheels  crashing  like  a  death-knell  upon  Leonie's  fluttering 
heart;  and  at  last  the  face  of  the  occupant  could  be  dimly 
outlined  through  the  misty,  gray  twilight  of  the  early 
morning. 

Leonie  cowered  still  lower  among  the  waving  corn,  and 
Hagar  followed  her  example. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  carriage,  and  had  it  swerved 
ever  so  little  toward  the  right  from  the  narrow  road,  it 
must  have  crushed  Leonie,  and  she  almost  fancied  he  must 
hear  the  loud  beating  of  her  terrified  heart. 

Charlie  Hart  was  so  intent  upon  his  own  thoughts,  he 
did  not  turn  his  face  in  her  direction,  and  the  terrible 
calamity  which  threatened  her  was,  for  a  time,  averted. 

"  When  he  finds  the  house  in  flames,  he  will  turn  back 
and  search  for  us,"  said  Leonie,  nervously. 

"  Marse  Hart  would  be  more  apt  ter  look  among  them 
*ar  ruins,"  said  Hagar,  confidently.  "  1  reckon  we  two '11 
be  a  good  ways  off  afore  he  gits  back  this  way." 

Hagar  was  fortunate  in  having  a  few  silver  coins  in  her 
pocket,  and,  walking  to  the  nearest  station,  they  were  just 
in  time  to  catch  the  down  train  to  New  York. 

No  one  would  have  dreamed,  among  the  passengers  in 
that  crowded  coach,  that  the  slight  figure,  so  completely 
concealed  in  the, long,  dark  shawl  and  bonnet,  was  Leonie 
Locke,  the  petted  and  wealthy  young  heiress  of  Lexington 
Avenue,  of  whose  supposed  death  all  the  city  papers  were 
teeming.  On  the  train,  Leonie  bought  the  "  Herald,*' 
and  a  sudden  thought  occurred  to  her,  as  she  read  the 
strange  paragraph  concerning  herself. . 


UB01STT5    LOCKS* 

No  kith  or  kin  had  she  in  all  the  whole  wide  world. 
Why  break  np  the  sad  romance  the  papers  had  so  ingen 
iously  woven?  Let  her  friends  believe  her  dead;  it  were 
better  so.  No  one  would  miss  her.  Let  them  dispose  of 
her  property  as  they  pleased;  what  comfort  had  ifc  brought 
to  her?  She  was  a  thousand  times  happier  when  she  was 
only  Leonie  Locke,  winning  her  own  bread  by  her  daily  toil. 

Charlie  Hart  would  believe  that  she  was  buried  beneath 
the  smoldering  ruins,  and  his  persecutions  would  cease. 

She  made  up  her  mind  to  commence  life  anew. 

Quietly  she  took  from  her  pocket  the  crayon  drawing  she 
had  made  of  Gordon  Carlisle,  gazing  earnestly  at  the  fair, 
handsome  face. 

"  Should  she  take  this  portrait  into  the  new  life  she  had 
worked  out  for  herself  ?"  Judgment  whispered:  "Thrust 
it  from  you!"  but  her  heart  whispered:  "He  was  your 
first  and  only  love.  You  can  not  find  it  so  easy  to  forget." 

It  was  the  first  time  for  many  months  that  she  had  al 
lowed  herself  to  think  calmly  over  that  sweet  love-dream 
that  had  flitted  across  her  young  life.  She  had  told  herself 
it  would  be  a  crime  to  allow  one  tender  thought  to  linger 
upon  the  man  who  was  soon  to  be  Dora  Lancaster's  hus 
band — the  handsome  lover  who  had  proven  himself  so  faith 
less.  Once  before  Leonie  had  stood  face  to  face  with  the 
cold,  cruel  world;  she  knew  all  its  pitiless  woes,  yet  she  did 
not  shrink  from  them,  and  fully  determined  upon  the 
course  she  would  pursue,  Leonie  alighted  from  the  train 
at  the  Grand  Central  Depot,  intending  to  put  it  into  exe 
cution  without  delay. 

Leonie  had  made  a  confidante  of  Hagar;  she  felt  she 
must  have  some  one  to  share  her  sorrows  with  her,  or  her 
poor  heart,  that  had  borne  so  much,  would  surely  break. 

At  the  depot  she  had  parted  from  Hagar,  who  had  re 
fused  to  share  the  contents  of  her  slender  purse.  Pooi^ 
faithful  Hagar,  to  whom  she  owed  her  life. 

"Which  way  should  she  turn — where  should  she  go?* 


LEOKIE    LOOKS.  313 

was  the  question  Leonie  asked  herself  as  she  threaded  the 
streets  of  the  busy  city. 

Some  one  was  crossing  the  street — Leonie  gave  a  hurried 
gasp;  there  was  no  mistaking  the  tall,  graceful  form  and 
easy  carriage;  it  was  surely  Gordon  Carlisle. 

Leonie  drew  her  cloak  more  closely  about  her  and  turned 
her  head  away,  turned  hurriedly  about,  and  would  have 
pursued  an  opposite  direction,  but  fate— or  Providence  in 
tervened. 

The  gentleman  turned  unexpectedly  around  and  they 
stood  face  to  face — not  Gordon  Carlisle — but  Paul  Rexford, 
the  young  professor. 

For  one  brief  instant  he  stood  as  though  stricken  dumb 
with  uncontrollable  emotion. 

"  Leonie — Miss  Locke?"  he  gasped;  "  am  I  mad,  or  do 
I  dream,  or  is  this  some  trick  of  fatal  resemblance?  No, 
no;  my  eyes  do  not  deceive  me.  You  are  Leonie  Locke!" 

He  drew  her  little  cold  fingers  through  his  arm  and 
walked  on  with  her  to  divert  attention  from  them. 

"  It  is  no  dream,  Mr.  Rexford,  it  is  I,"  sobbed  Leonie. 
"  The  papers  were  wrong.  1  did  not  leave  the  ball  and 
wander  to  the  water,  as  they  said.  I  will  tell  you  the  truth. 
I  was  kidnapped!" 

The  startling  words  almost  took  Paul  Rexford 's  breath 
away.  They  were  standing  before  a  cafe,  and  he  quietly 
led  her  within. 

"  We  can  talk  here  quite  unobserved,"  he  said,  after 
-giving  the  order  for  luncheon. 

Leonie  hid  her  face  in  her  hands  and  sobbed  aloud.  She 
did  not  see  the  kindly  eyes  behind  the  blue  glasses  fill  with 
tears,  and  the  flushes  come  and  go  on  his  handsome,  pale 
face  as  she  told  her  simple  story: 

Of  how  she  had  retired  to  the  boudoir  to  rest,  the  fatigue 
of  the  ball  being  too  much  for  her;  of  the  midnight  in 
truder  bending  over  her  jewels,  and  the  horrible  discovery 
she  had  made  that  Jm  vaa.Ghacfc&Jiftrt,  the  man  from 


314  tEOKTE    LOCKE. 

whose  persecutions  the  young  professor  had  saved  her  03 
that  never-to-be-forgotten  night  of  the  masked  balL 

Paul  Kexford  listened  with  breathless  interest,  and  she 
trent  on  pathetically: 

"  After  I  tore  the  mask  from  his  face  he  knew  I  recog 
nized  him.  I  faulted;  and  when  I  regained  consciousness 
I  found  myself  in  an  isolated  stone  house,  in  which  my 
persecutor  had  placed  me,  and  while  I  was  praying  for 
escape  or  death,  the  interior  of  the  house  caught  fire,  and 
I  would  have  been  burned  to  death  had  it  not  been  for  a 
faithful  old  colored  woman  who  periled  her  own  life  in 
saving  mine.  We  walked  to  the  nearest  station  and 
boarded  the  New  York  train.  I  had  just  arrived  when 
you  met  me." 

Although  Leonie  had  gone  to  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel, 
and  called  for  Paul  Rexford,  on  the  night  of  the  mas 
querade  ball,  to  tell  him  of  the  paper  acknowledging  her 
self  to  be  the  wife  of  Charlie  Hart,  now  that  she  stood  face 
to  face  with  the  young  professor,  a  sudden  reticence  seemed 
to  seal  her  lips.  She  would  not  tell  him  of  the  sword  that 
hung  suspended  over  her  head.  No,  no — she  could  not 
breathe  the  words  that  trembled  on  her  Hps. 

And  her  silence  brought  to  those  two  lives  the  keenest 
and  most  pitiful  sorrow  they  were  ever  to  experience.  Oh, 
if  she  had  but  told  him  then  and  there  the  whole  story  of 
Charlie  Hart's  persecutions,  a  world  of  woe  might  have 
been  spared  her. 

Leonie  dared  not  tell  the  young  professor  of  the  resolu 
tion  she  had  made  to  abandon  her  friends  and  luxurious 
home,  and  earn  her  own  living.  And  a  half  hour  later, 
he  had  escorted  her  to  the  door  of  her  Lexington  Avenue 
home.  There  was  another  sensation  in  the  morning  jour 
nals,  which  explained  under  the  caption  of  "  The  Freak  of 
a  Prettv  Young  Heiress,"  that  she  had  stolen  away  to  visft 
a  voting  lady  friend,  suimosin/jr  her  friends  knew  where  she 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  215 

had  gone.  And,  as  no  one  doubted  the  truth  of  the  as* 
sertion,  it  was  generally  believed. 

Hundreds  of  friends  called  to  pay  their  respects  to  her— 
among  them  artful,  deceitful  Dora  Lancaster;  but  Gor 
don  Carlisle  held  aloof.  No  one  but  black  Hagar  and  the 
young  professor,  Paul  Kexford,  knew  the  dark  story  con 
nected  with  her  mysterious  disappearance. 

The  cruel  indignities  which  had  been  forced  upon  Leonie 
stung  the  young  professor  to  madness  when  he  thought  of 
them.  All  that  night  at  his  lodgings,  he  paced  his  room, 
revolving  in  his  mind  some  way  to  punish  the  villain  who 
had  dared  bring  such  fright  and  persecutions  upon  Leonie. 

He  remembered  obtaining  Charlie  Hart's  address  on  the 
night  of  the  masquerade  ball,  and  hastily  turning  to  his 
memorandum  he  found  it  with  little  difficulty. 

"  1  will  take  it  upon  myself  to  avenge  Leonie  Locke's 
wrongs,"  he  muttered,  and  seating  himself  before  his  writ 
ing-desk,  he  indited  a  long,  closely  written  letter  to  Charlie 
Hart. 

It  was  soon  dispatched  by  a  messenger  to  Charlie 
Hart's  apartments.  All  night  long  the  young  professor  sat 
by  his  open  window,  his  head  buried  in  his  hands,  deeply 
absorbed  in  thought.  At  last  the  messenger  returned. 

With  a  firm  hand  the  young  professor  took  the  envelope 
from  the  boy,  tore  it  open,  and  read  its  contents.  It  con 
tained  but  these  few  words: 

"  I  accept  your  challenge,  and  will  be  ready  to  fight  the 
§uel  at  the  time  and  place  agreed  upon. 

"  Yours  defiantly, 

"CHARLIB'HART." 

CHAPTER  XLI. 

PAUL  REXFORD  placed  the  envelope  containing  Charlifl 
flart's  answer  upon  the  table,  then  resumed  hia  «eat  by  the 
window. 


816  LBONIE    LOCKE. 

By  the  time  the  son  rose  on  the  morrow  Leonie's  wrongs 
should  he  avenged. 

The  young  professor  sighed  heavily,  then  set  about  mak 
ing  his  preparations  for  the  coming  event  By  evening  ali 
his  business  affairs  were  arranged.  If  he  fell,  there  would 
be  little  trouble  hi  the  distribution  of  his  effects. 

Then  he  sat  down  and  wrote  a  long  letter  to  Leonie,  ad 
dressing  it  to  Aimee,  her  maid,  with  strict  instructions  thau 
it  should  not  be  delivered  to  her  mistress  until  twelve 
o'clock  the  following  day,  and  there  were  tears  upon  the 
page  as  he  folded  it  up  and  sealed  it. 

After  he  had  finished  this  epistle  he  packed  his  valise 
with  a  few  necessary  articles,  and  a  half  hour  later  was 
steaming  toward  a  small  town  lying  among  the  Connecti 
cut  hills. 

Paul  Rexford  walked  up  the  quiet,  grass-grown  streets 
with  a  strange,  restless  light  in  his  dreamy  blue  eyes. 

The  whole  earth  looked  so  peaceful,  smiling  under  the 
light  of  the  warm  spring  sunshine,  that  poor  Paul  admitted 
to  himself  it  was  indeed  hard  to  leave  it. 

He  stopped  a  moment  on  the  brow  of  the  hill  and  looked 
ground  him.  When  that  same  sun  rose  again  he  might 
never  see  it,  or,  if  he  lived,  his  hands  might  be  dyed  with  a 
fellow-creature's  life-blood.  Paul  Rexford  shuddered,  then 
a  reckless  sort  of  laugh  burst  from  his  mustached  lips. 

How  greeu  the  sloping  hill-sides  looked,  dotted  here  and 
there  with  brilliant  wild  flowers  and  spreading  beach-trees. 

A  babbling  stream  danced  in  the  sunlight  aiid  its  music 
sounded  like  a  dirge  in  the  young  professor's  ears. 

Toward  the  right  of  the  stream  the  greensward  was 
dotted  here  and  there  with  gypsy  tents — swarthy  men  and 
maidens  making  the  morning  air  ring  with  their  rollick- 
some  songs. 

Quite  apart  from  the  group,  and  directly  in  the  path  be 
fore  Paul,  a  young  girl  sat.  A  tambourine  decked  with 
bright  crimson  ribbon*  ia*  on.  Lte  ffragflLbeside  her,  and  her 


LEONIE    LOCKE. 

gaody,  picturesque  dress,  long  dark  hair,  bright  black 
glancing  eyes  and  tawny  skin  betokened  her  race. 

A  gay,  dashing  song  broke  from  her  crimson  lips,  and 
Paul  Rexford  stopped  short  in  the  path,  his  arms  folded 
across  his  chest,  his  head  drooping  upon  his  breast,  and 
listened. 

She  raised  her  eyes  suddenly,  and  her  glance  encountered 
the  stranger  standing  in  the  daisy-studded  path. 

She  bounded  to  her  feet  with  the  agility  of  a  graceful 
young  gazelle  and  courtesied  low  before  him. 

"  Will  you  have  your  fortune  told,  handsome  youth?" 
she  asked,  raising  her  lustrous  dark  eyes  to  his  fair  face. 
*'  1  can  tell  you  all  the  mysteries  that  lie  in  the  future, 
and  the  dark  shadows  that  have  gathered  in  the  back 
ground  of  the  past." 

Paul  Rexford  stood  for  a  single  moment  irresolute.  At 
any  other  time  in  life  he  would  have  scorned  the  proffered 
offer;  but  now,  when  life  and  death  hung  in  the  balance,  a 
feverish  unrest  possessed  him  to  know  what  she  could  tell 
h:m. 

Long  and  earnestly  the  gypsy  girl  gazed  into  the  palm 
of  the  white,  shapely  hand  she  held  in  her  own  small  dusk 
ones. 

"  You  love,"  she  said,  slowly,  "  and  your  love  has  been 
your  doom!" 

Paul  Eexford  laughed — a  mirthless,  reckless  laugh,  but 
a  strange  brooding  shadow  crept  into  his  eyes,  and  a  flush 
rose  to  his  pale,  handsome  face  which  told  the  crafty 
maiden  that  her  shaft  had  struck  home,  as  it  usually  did. 

Suddenly  a  cry  broke  from  the  girl's  lips.  "  Great  dan 
ger  threatens  you,  oh,  handsome  youth! — fly  from  it  quick 
ly!  Death  and  destruction  lie  in  your  path!" 

"  Let  it  come— I  have  courted  it!"  returned  Rexford,  a 
little  impatiently.  "  I  have  nothing  to  live  for,  anyhow." 

Although  he  spoke  bravely,  he  could  realize  how  hard  ft 
<ras  to  die  in  the  spring-time  of  youth,  to  bid  farewell  to 


fclS  LBOKIE    LOCKE. 

the  green  earth  and  fair,  smiling  heaven*,  to  be  rushed  aQ 
unprepared — where?  He  could  hear  no  more.  Tossing  a 
Handful  of  bright  silver  coins  into  her  lap,  he  moved  on. 

If  Paul  Kexford  had  turned  suddenly  around  he  would 
have  seen  the  beautiful,  passionate  gypsy  girl  fall  down 
upon  her  knees  in  the  long,  green  grass  and  press  her 
dusky  cheek  to  the  daisies  which  his  feet  had  pressed. 

"  As  handsome  as  a  prince,"  she  sighed,  wearily,  brush 
ing  the  pearly  tear-drops  from  her  eye;  "  but  it  will  not  do 
for  the  queen  of  the  gypsies  to  dare  to  love  him — our  races 
hate  each  other."  Yet  the  memory  of  his  gentle  voice 
haunted  her,  and,  thrusting  the  bright  silver  coins  into  her 
bosom,  she  started  to  her  feet.  "  I  must  know  who  he 
is,"  she  said,  reflectively,  toying  with  the  bright  crimson 
ribbons  that  bound  her  dusky  hair;  and,  silently  as  a  creep 
ing  shadow,  she  stole  after  him,  her  footfalls  making  no 
sound  on  the  green  velvety  grass — whether  for  weal  or  woe, 
the  reader  is  soon  to  know. 

Meanwhile,  Leonie  had  plunged  madly  into  the  vortex  of 
fashionable  life  again,  endeavoring,  in  the  giddy  whirl  of 
oxcitement,  to  forget  the  sword  that  hung  suspended  over 
her  head,  and  might  fall  upon  her  at  any  moment.  She 
knew  Charlie  Hart's  cruel  persecution  too  well  to  even 
hope  he  would  forego  his  diabolical  plan  of  making  use  of 
her  signature,  and  claiming  her  as  his  wife  before  the  as 
tonished  world. 

Leonie's  friends  watched  this  unlooked-for  change  in  the 
capricious  little  heiress  with  wondering  faces,  whispering 
to  themselves  that  she  was  unnaturally  gay — wliat  had 
caused  such  a  change? 

Aimee,  the  maid,  looked  at  her  young  mistress  with 
troubled  eyes.  "  I  might  as  well  give  her  the  letter  the 
young  professor  sent,"  she  thought,  taking  it  from  the 
pocket  of  her  dress,  although  the  directions  in  the  lower 
left-hand  corner  plainly  stated  "  it  was  not  to  be  delivered 
until  twelve  o'clock  the  folio  wine,  nowu" 


LEONIE    LOCKE. 

Leonie  lay  asleep  on  a  divan  when  she  entered  the  room, 
and  Aimee  quietly  placed  it  upon  a  chair  \ff  her  side  and 
withdrew,  drawing  the  silken  curtains  closely  after  her. 
Leonie  stirred  uneasily  in  her  sleep,  and  as  she  awoke,  her 
eyes  rested  upon  the  letter  that  had  slipped  from  the  chair 
to  the  carpet,  and  had  been  lying  quite  hidden  beneath  the 
folds  of  her  dress.  A  square  white  envelope  bearing  her 
name  written  in  a  plain  bold  hand,  and  in  the  lower 
left-hand  corner  was  the  line:  "  Not  to  be  delivered 
until  Wednesday  noon. "  She  knew  the  chirography  well 
— it  was  Paul  Kexford's.  Was  it  true  her  yearning  heart 
was  going  out  to  him  on  the  rebound?  or  was  it  the 
strange,  unaccountable  workings  of  a  fate  which  is  beyond 
the  power  of  mortals  to  understand — who  could  tell? 

She  tore  open  the  envelope  with  trembling  fingers.  It 
bore  the  date  of  the  day  which  followed  the  masquerade 
ball,  and  the  paper  bore  the  caption  of  the  "  Fifth  Avenue 
Hotel." 

"  Leonie,"  it  began,  "  by  the  time  this  reaches  you  and 
you  are  holding  it  in  your  little  white  hands,  I  shall  be 
standing  face  to  face — to  give  my  life  or  take  his  life — 
with  the  man  who  dared  persecute  you  so  cruelly  at  the 
ball.  Target-shooting  has  not  been  a  part  of  my  educa 
tion,  and,  from  my  knowledge  of  this  man,  Charles  Hart, 
I  feel  that  I  am  doomed.  They  tell  me,  in  duels,  he  is  a 
sure  shot.  But  death  would  be  sweet  to  me,  Leonie,  if  I 
die  defending  your  beloved  name;  for  I  dare  write  on 
paper  what  I  dare  not  breathe  in  words — I  love  you. 

"  We  meet  at  noon  at  the  cross-roads  one  mile  north  of 
New  London,  Connecticut,  ancl  as  the  last  vibrations  of 
the  clock  in  an  adjacent  steeple  die  away  we  fire. 

"  If  I  live  I  shall  go  so  far  away  you  shall  never  be 
troubled  by  the  memory  of  the  words  1  can  not  refrain 
from  penning.  I  am  ^ot  what  I  seem — I  am  false  to 
your  implicit  faith —a  living  lie—- for  I  am  not  Paul 
fordl" 


220  LEONIE    LOCKE. 


CHAPTER    XLTI. 

THE  letter  fell  from  Leonie's  fingers.  Was  she  mad,  of 
did  she  dream?  She  picked  up  the  letter  and  reread  it: 

44 1  am  not  what  I  seem.  I  am  false  to  your  implicit 
faith— a  living  lie— for  I  am  not  Paul  Rexford. 

"  The  name  was  an  assumed  one.  I  was  in  the  office  of 
the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  when  you  sent  in  your  card  re 
questing  an  interview  with  Professor  Rexford.  I  was  not 
known  there  by  that  name,  and  very  shame  kept  me  silent. 

"  I  have  but  one  excuse  to  offer:  Had  you  known  who 
and  what  I  am  you  would  have  spurned  me  from  your 
presence,  and  that  1  could  never  have  endured,  for  I  love 
you,  Leonie,  with  all  the  mad,  passionate  love  of  my  heart; 
a  love  which  weak  words  are  powerless  to  describe. 

"  1  would  rather  die  for  you  than  live  for  any  other 
woman.  Remember,  if  I  live  I  shall  put  the  whole  wide 
world  between  us  that  I  may  not  look  upon  the  beautiful 
face  of  her  who  could  but  scorn  the  poor  professor  for  dar 
ing  to  acknowledge  his  great  love  for  one  so  far  above  him. 

"  I  dare  write  the  words  here — breathe  out  all  the  wealth 
of  my  pent-up  love — upon  the  white,  soulless  paper,  con 
tent  that  your  eyes  will  rest  upon  it,  reading  the  words  I 
write — words  that  would  never  cross  my  lips—revealing  a 
mighty  love  you  little  dreamed  existed. 

"  Ah,  Leonie,  I  know  that  in  telling  you  the  story  of 
my  mad,  passionate  love  I  have  placed  a  barrier  between 
us  forever.  In  daring  to  love  you  I  have  sinned  past  for 
giveness,  so  I  will  finish  my  sin  and  tell  you  that  from  the 
first  moment  we  met  I  loved  you  as  no  man  in  the  wide 
world  ever  loved  before,  or  will  ever  love  again.  If  1 
should  fall,  remember  always,  through  the  long  years  in 
which  I  shall  see  you  no  more,  the  greatest,  deepest,  most 
passionate  love  that  was  ever  given  to  a  human  heart  was 
laid  at  your  feet  fojutou  ta  tramnte  on. 


LfcONIE    LOCKS. 

"  Gold  came  between  us,  and  I  realized,  when  1  had 
mothing  but  poverty  to  offer  you,  that  the  great,  pa&eion- 
ate  love  in  my  heart  for  you  must  be  stifled.  You  would 
never  love  a  poor  man. 

"  I  had  a  mad,  hopeless  fancy  that  perhaps  my  mighty, 
patient  Jove  would  wake  some  echo  in  your  heart  As  we 
leaned  together  over  the  pages  of  your  books,  1  was  con 
tent  to  watch  over  you  and  guard  you;  and  when  you 
looked  up  into  iny  eyes  and  smiled,  the  keen  rapture  of  it 
almost  unmanned  me,  I  worshiped  you  so. 

"  I  followed  you  to  the  masquerade  ball,  and,  thank 
God,  I  was  there  in  time  to  shield  you!  The  man  Hart 
challenged  me,  and  1  accepted;  for  I  would  give  a  thou 
sand  lives,  dear  little  Leonie,  if  I  had  them,  to  defend  your 
honor. 

"  But  I  ask  this,  by  my  great  love  for  you,  that  you  will 
forget  the  daring  presumption  of  the  poor  professor  in  lov 
ing  you,  and  remember  only  my  last  request— the  request 
of  one  who  thought  it  the  greatest  bliss  to  lay  down  his  life 
for  you — that  you  will  rest  your  beautiful  face,  just  for  one 
trief  moment,  on  this  paper,  over  which  mine  has  bent, 
and  1  will  be  content.  You  are  kind  of  heart,  and  I  feel 
sure  you  will  do  this,  if  only  for  pity's  sake — pity  for  him 
who  loved  you  so.  Ah!  Leonie,  beautiful,  dark-eyed 
queen,  Heaven  intended  us  for  each  other.  I  dare  to  tell 
you  this,  because  we  shall  never,  in  any  event,  meet  again. 
But  fate  has  drifted  you  from  ma 

"  '  Two  shall  walk  some  narrow  way  of  Hfe, 
So  nearly  side  by  side  that,  should  one  turn 
Ever  so  little  space  to  left  or  right, 
They  needs  must  acknowledge,  face  to  face, 
And  yet  with  wishful  eyes  that  never  meet— 
With  groping  hands  that  never  clasp,  and  Mps 
Calling  to  ears  that  never  hear — 
They  seek  each  other  all  their  weary  days, 
And  die  unsatisfied— and  this  is  fate.' 


LEONIE    LOCKE. 

"  Perhaps  my  next  words  will  surprise  you.  I  saw  you 
first  when  you  were  plain  little  Leonie  Locke — a  working- 
girl — and  that  was  the  time  I  learned  to  love  you;  but 
wealth  came  between  us,  and  1  knew  then  how  useless  it 
would  have  been  to  declare  my  hopes. 

"  Farewell,  Leonie!  Forgive  my  aspirations  and  my 
hopeless  love.  Seek  not  to  know  who  or  what  I  am. 

"  *  You  will  not — you  can  not  understand 
How  the  written  words  are  so  much  colder 
Then  eye  or  hand. 

Farewell,  oh,  lost  one!    For  all  the  pain 
That  I  may  give  or  take, 
Think  of  me  kindly  and  at  my  best, 
For  my  hopeless  love's  sake.'  " 

No  name  was  signed  to  the  letter  that  had  been  written 
by  the  young  professor's  hand;  his  identity  was  shrouded 
in  the  darkest  mystery. 

"  Oh,  this  duel  can  not — must  not  go  on!"  sobbed 
Leonie,  starting  to  her  feet,  and  wringing  her  white  hands 
in  the  most  intense  agony. 

Almost  fainting  with  terror,  she  ran  her  eyes  over  the 
letter  again.  The  duel  was  to  take  place  at  twelv4  <^clock 
snarp;  it  was  then  but  ten.  Aimee  had  made  a  fortunate 
mistake  in  not  obeying  Paul  Rexford's  note,  which  bade 
her  place  this  letter  in  Leonie 's  hands  as  the  chimes  of  the 
clock  tolled  the  hour  of  noon  on  this  fateful  Wednesday. 

*'  What  difference  can  an  hour  or  two  make?"  Aimee 
had  thought.  Ah,  if  she  had  only  known! 

Two  hours!  Oh,  what  might  not  be  accomplished  in 
that  length  of  time!  Life  and  death  hung  hi  the  balance. 

How  her  heart  turned  to  the  poor  young  professor,  who 
had  loved  her  with  such  a  hopeless  love!  She  could  pity 
him,  for  she  knew  every  pang  of  it;  she  had  loved  hand 
some  Gordon  Carlisle  with  just  such  a  mad,  passionate, 
hopeless  lore, 

Leonie  gave  the  bell-roue  a  violent  pull  that  brought 


UftSlE    LOCKE.  223 

Aimee  hurrying  to  her  side.  Leonie  stood  in  the  middle  of 
the  room,  her  face  white  as  marble  and  her  dark  eyes 
gleaming  like  dark  purple  fires,  in  her  intense  excitement. 

In  one  hand  she  held  the  letter  crushed  closely  in  her 
fingers  against  her  throbbing  heart,  and  the  other  hancx 
grasped  the  back  of  a  chair  for  support. 

'*  You  must  get  me  ready  at  once,  Aimee,"  she  gaspea. 
i(  I — I  am  called  suddenly  away.  Do  not  let  any  cue 
know.  Say  that  I  am  indisposed  and  can  not  see  any  one, 
it  will  not  be  an  untruth;  I  am  sick  almost  to  death." 

The  thought  of  meeting  Charlie  Hart  face  to  face  again 
almost  made  her  heart  cease  beating,  for  she  knew  the 
whole  horrible  story  would  be  sure  to  follow — he  would 
claim  her  then  and  there  as  his  wife. 

His  wife!  oh,  pitiful  Heaven!  What  had  she  ever  done 
to  merit  it?  she,  whose  whole  life  had  been  as  bla-meless  as 
fc  little  child's.  She  would  save  the  young  professor  from 
him,  and  then — and  then — ah,  well,  it  did  not  matter 
much  what  became  of  her  after  that,  for  the  whole  world 
would  think  her  Charlie  Hart's  wife. 

The  papers  would  print  the  cruel  story  and  call  it  a 
thrilling  romance  in  high  life,  and  the  shame  of  it  would 
break  her  heart. 

What  young  girl  in  the  whole  wide  world  ever  had  a 
sword  like  this  suspended  by  a  thread  above  her  head, 
knowing  sooner  or  later  the  blow  must  fall  and  crush  her. 

Aimee  looked  at  her  young  mistress,  pale  to  the  very 
lips. 

"Oh,  Miss  Leonie,"  she  cried,  "don't  go!  On,  if  I 
dared  to  tell  you,"  she  wailed,  entreatingly. 

"  Don't  stop  to  talk  like  that,"  cried  Leonie,  "  get  me 
my  cloak,  hat,  gloves,  and  a  dark  yen.  A  human  life  de 
pends  upon  it;  quick,  or  I  shall  be  too  late!" 

"  It  is  one  of  that  Miss  Lancaster's  tricks,  I  feel  sure  of 
it,"  cried  the  girl,  moodily.  "  Take  my  warning,  and  do 
not  go,  Miss  Leonie,  Aet  rue  go  instead,"  she  persisted. 


LEOKIE    LOCKE. 

Leonie  only  shook  her  dark  curls  sorrowfully. 

"  Miss  Lancaster  has  nothing  to  do  with  it  Do  not  try 
to  make  me  more  nervous  than  I  am  already/'  she  added, 
drawing  on  her  gloves  and  hurriedly  tying  her  curls  back 
behind  her  dark  veil. 

"  Heed  my  warning  and  do  not  go/'  she  urged.  "  Oh, 
Miss  Leonie,  I  do  feel  as  though  something  terrible  was 
going  to  happen,  and  you  would  never  come  back  just  as 
you  are  leaving  me.  You  have  enemies  who  wish  you 
dead.  I  must  save  you  from  yourself ." 

"  Don't — don't,  I  can  not  bear  it!"  cried  Leonie.  "  I 
must  go.  Every  hour,  every  moment,  is  precious — golden 
moments  that  are  fleeting  but  too  quickly.  Good-bye, 
Aimee/'  she  said,  and  in  a  moment  she  had  flitted  through 
the  open  door-way  and  down  the  broad  entrance  hall  to 
the  pavement,  and  just  at  that  opportune  moment  a  coach 
drew  up  at  the  curb-stone,  and  Dora  Lancaster  leaped  out. 

"  It  seems  I  am  just  in  time,"  chattered  Dora,  gayly, 
'*  here  you  are,  looking  as  pretty  and  fresh  as  a  fairy,  all 
dressed  for  a  drive.  I  am  going  to  take  a  look  at  that 
portrait  again  to-day;  the  artist  has  sent  for  me.  You  wfll 
come  with  me,  Leonie.  Remember,  I  have  your  standing 
promise. " 

"  I  can  not  go  to-day \"  cried  Leonie.  "  1  am  just  on 
my  way  to  the  depot,  to  see  a  friend  whose  life  is  despaired 
of.  If  it  were  at  any  other  time  I  would  go  gladly;  every 
moment  is  precious. " 

"  At  least  let  me  drive  you  to  the  depot,"  urged  Dora, 
iv  1  have  Gordon's  horses  here,  and  they  are  the  fleetest  in 
tne  city/' 

And  almost  before  she  was  aware  of  Dora's  intention, 
the  artful  blonde  had  thrown  her  arms  coaxingly  about 
ner;  and  fairly  forced  her  into  the  coach.  The  curtains, 
a  silken  seal  brown,  were  closely  drawn,  and  a  heavy  odoi 
of  Marechal  Neil  roses  pervaded  the  vehicle. 

uora  wore  a  cluster  <vf  the  same^rpses  on  ner  breast. 


LEON  IE    LOCKE.  225 

"We  shall  have  a  very  oozy  ride,  pretty  Leonie/'  she 
«ried,  with  a  shrill  laugh  that  sounded  strangely  out  of 
place.  "  I  must  tell  the  driver  to  go  by  the  back  streets, 
to  make  quicker  time. 

44  I  would  be  so  pleased,"  replied  Leonie;  44  for  I  most 
be  in  time  to  catch  the  first  train." 

44  Why  don't  you  admire  my  fragrant  roses?"  cried 
Dora,  catching  up  a  bouquet  and  almost  burying  Leonie 'a 
face  in  it,  **  are  they  not  beautiful?  is  not  the  faint  odor 
delicious?" 

The  bouquet  contained  something  more  than  the  rare 
odorous  breath  of  the  innocent  roses,  which  Dora  was 
steadily  pressing  to  her  nostrils. 

44  They  make  me  faint,"  gasped  Leonie;  44  please  take 
them  away,  Miss  Lancaster,  I — I — oh,  I  see  it  all  nowl" 
she  cried  out  faintly,  "  you  have  poisoned  the  roses  and  I 
am  fainting,  dying.  1 — " 

44  Die  then!"  shrieked  Dora  Lancaster,  "  the  sooner  the 
better;  your  beauty  that  won  Gordon  Carlisle's  love  irom 
me,  has  been  your  curse.  Yes,  I  will  tell  you  the  truth 
now  when  love  is  out  of  your  reach  forever:  Gordon  loves 
you,  and  I  vowed  I  would  separate  you,  and  I  have  kept 
my  vow.  You  shall  not  die,  there  is  a  worse  fate  than 
that — a  thousand  times  worse!  You  are  at  a  rival's  mercy, 
Leonie  Locke," 


CHATTER  XLIIL 

TKE  subtle  odor  of  the  roses  was  becoming  unbearable, 
and  was  fast  locking  Leonie's  senses  in  its  dread  embrace. 

She  was  painfully  conscious  of  all  Dora  was  saying,  but 
all  power  to  raise  her  voice  or  move  a  muscle  seemed  sud 
denly  to  have  left  her.  Dora  had  told  a  horrible  truth— 
her  beautiful,  innocent  rival  was  at  her  mercy! 

Her  lovely  dark  velvetv  eves  weie  fi^flfj  ypna  Dflra'6 


226  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

with  a  look  of  frozen  horror  in  their  dark  depths;  but, 
nothing  daunted,  she  went  on,  triumphantly: 

"  Yes,  you  are  at  my  mercy,  Leonie  Locke,  and  you 
shall  taste  to  the  full  how  deeply  a  rival  can  hate.  You 
shall  not  die;  Gordon  could,  in  that  case,  weep  over  the 
memory  of  your  beautiful  face.  My  revenge  is  more  dia 
bolical  than  that.  I  will  scar  your  beauty  so  horribly  that 
a  thrill  of  abhorrence  will  fill  the  hearts  of  those  who  gaze 
upon  you,  and  when  you  see  Gordon  Carlisle  turn  away  as 
he  looks  upon  you,  in  that  thrilling  moment  you  will  feei 
all  the  tortures  of  slighted  love,  such  as  I  have  felt." 

Leonie  tried  to  utter  the  words  4<  mercy,"  "  pity,"  but 
no  sound  broke  from  her  white  lips.  Yet  amidst  all  the 
dark  horror  of  the  moment  and  the  still  more  horrible 
future  in  store  for  her,  her  poor  heart  thrilled  with  ex 
quisite  rapture  at  the  bare  possibility  of  the  thought  that 
perhaps,  after  all,  Gordon  did  care  for  her. 

Almost  in  answer  to  her  thoughts,  Dora  continued: 

"  I  may  as  well  tell  you  the  truth,  and  it  will  be  another 
bitter  drop  in  your  cup.  Gordon  Carlisle  has  loved  you 
from  the  very  first,  when  you  were  only  a  working-girl, 
and  he  scorned  me — me,  an  heiress — whose  one  passionate 
life-dream  had  been  to  be  Gordon  Carlisle's  wife.  The 
one  great  torture  of  my  life  was  that  he  might  some  day 
meet  some  girl  with  a  pretty  face,  and  she  might  lure  him 
from  me;  and  when  my  eyes  rested  upon  you,  Leonie 
Locke,  I  knew  that  my  fears  were  realized:  he  would  love 
you — we  were  to  be  mortal  foes.  My  life-dream  was  dashed 
down.  I  knew  it  would  be  war  to  the  knife  between  us.  i 
tried  to  lure  him  from  you,  but  it  was  all  in  vain,  and  I 
hated  you  so  I  could  have  killed  you  with  these  white  hands 
of  mine.  Then  a  brilliant  idea  came  to  me — I  must  teach 
him  to  abhor  you ;  if  I  could  only  do  that,  he  might  turn 
to  me  for  comfort  and  sympathy.  I  made  a  study  of  it 
aight  and  day,  and  at  last  I  saw  my  way  clear.  It  is 
beauty  that  men  love-just  such  dark,  dreamy  eyes,  small, 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  2K 

> 

delicate  features,  and  curred,  crimson,  quivering  lipe,  and 
I  knew,  if  I  blighted  your  beauty,  his  love  would  diet 
Beao&y  alone  will  always  win  and  hold  the  hearts  of  men--* 
dark,  luring  beauty.  You  will  never  dare  to  tell  one  word 
I  am  telling  you;  no  one  would  believe  you,  for  you  can 
not  prove  it.  You  will  be — " 

There  was  a  crash.  The  coach  had  collided  with  a  pass 
ing  street  car,  and,  in  a  single  instant,  the  occupants  were 
lying  senseless  on  the  pavement. 

They  were  taken  to  an  adjacent  drug-store,  and,  under 
the  skillful  hands  of  a  doctor,  Leonie  gained  consciousness, 
and  the  powerful  restoratives  completely  counteracted  the 
pernicious  influence  of  the  drugged  roses.  "With  Dora  it 
was  quite  aaother  matter.  Examination  proved  that  sh» 
had  sustained  severe  injuries  about  the  head  and  face. 

"  Heaven  has  saved  me,"  thought  Leouie,  gazing  down 
upon  the  mocking  lips,  that  still  retained  a  leering  smile, 
"  I  will  tak«  no  revenge  upon  her;  I  will  forgive  her,  for 
she  was  crazed  by  jealousy;"  and,  after  giving  the  doctor 
Dora's  Brooklyn  address,  in  order  that  she  might  be  taken 
home  at  once,  Leonie  hurried  toward  the  depot,  which  was 
fortunately  close  at  hand. 

The  train  for  Nor  walk  and  New  London  was  just  start 
ing,  and  she  had  barely  time  to  buy  her  ticket  and  secure 
her  seat  as  the  car  moved  out. 

Owing  to  the  wreck  of  a  freight  car  just  ahead  on  the 
road,  the  train  was  half  an  hour  late,  and  this  delay  was 
the  turning  point  in  the  destinies  of  two  lives. 

It  was  due  at  New  London  at  11:45.  There  were  always 
oabs  at  the  depot,  and  in  fifteen  minutes'  time,  if  nothing 
delayed  her,  she  could  reach  the  spot  where  such  a  startling 
tragedy  was  to  be  enacted. 

Those  who  sat  near  her  saw  her  clasp  her  hands  together 
supplicatingly,  and  heard  her  murmur,  "  Oh,  Heaven! 
what  should  I  do  if  I  came — too  late!" 

The  train  seemed  .to  almost  creet)  along,  to  her  excited 


LEOHTE    LOCKE. 

fancy.  Leonie  resolutely  put  all  thoughts  off  (jforclon 
lisle  from  her  mind,  and  thought  only  of  the  young  pro 
fessor  who  loved  her  with  such  a  patient,  hopeless  love,  and 
was  facing  death  for  her  sake.  How  deeply  his  pathetio 
jetter  had  touched  her!  Was  there  ever  a  love  like  his? 
She  muat  reward  him  by  straining  every  nerve  to  save  his 
life.  Oh,  how  long  the  train  waited  at  the  way-stations! 
How  peaceful  the  Connecticut  hills  and  vales,  looked , 
bathed  in  the  golden  glory  of  the  sunlight!  Alas!  it 
seemed  so  strange  that  its  tranquillity  should  be  broken 
with  the  moans  of  the  dying,  and  the  blooi  of  a  human/ 
loving  heart  lave  the  modest  violets  on  the  hill-side. 

At  last  the  towers  of :  the  quaint  town  loomed  into  sight. 
Leonie  looked  at  her  jeweled  watch.  A  cry  that  was  pitiful 
to  hear  broke  from  her  lips.  It  was  ten  minutes  to  twelve! 

She  signaled  the  nearest  cab. 

'*  Can  you  take  me  to  the  cross-roads  a  mile  north  of  the 
city  in  eight  minutes?"  she  cried,  breathlessly.  "  A  life— 
oh!  sir,  a  human  life  depends  upon  it!  You  shall  have 
double  your  fee — or  any  price  you  wish  to  charge  me!" 

"  Eight  minutes!"  answered  the  cabman,  shaking  his 
head  dubiously.  "  It's  over  a  mile,  and  the  roads  are 
terrible.  I  took  a  party  of  gentlemen  there  a  half  hour 
«go,  and  1 — " 

"  Oh,  Heaven!  I  shall  be  too  late!"  exclaimed  Leonie. 
"*  Oh,  sir,  do  your  best  to  make  it,  and  1  will  give  you  the 
price  of  your  horses!  I  am  rich — let  money  influence  you 
to  do  your  best!  Those  gentlemen  are  to  fight  a  duel,  and 
I  must  prevent  it!" 

"  Get  into  the  coach,  miss;  I  will  do  my  best,"  said  the 
man. 

Another  instant  and  the  coach  was  whirling  with  light. 
niDg-like  rapidity  along  the  uneven  road. 

It  was  a  ride  never  to  be  forgotten.  A  strong  hand  held 
the  reins  and  urged  the  frightened  animals  to  do  thek 


LBONIE    LOCKE.  229 

beit     The  vehicle,  whirling  and  dashing  along  with  ifca 
terrified  occupant,  swayed  to  and  fro  like  a  leaf  in  a  gale. 

Three — four — five  minutes  passed;  then  a  sound  rose 
clear  and  distinct  above  the  crashing  of  the  wheels — a 
sound  that  made  Leouie  almost  faint  with  fear.  It  was 
the  town  clock  chiming  the  hour  of  noon!  ;•' 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

Itf  after  years  when  Leonie  looked  back  at  that  thrilling 
ride,  she  wondered  that  she  had  not  died  in  the  terrible 
excitement  of  that  awful  moment. 

The  horses  rearing  and  plunging  frantically  down  the 
*teep  uneven  road,  and  the  white-faced  driver  standing 
upon  the  box,  applying  the  whip  with  a  steady  hand,  mak 
ing  each  stroke  tell  upon  the  quivering,  panting  beasts, 
and  the  vehicle  swaying  to  and  fro,  and  above  the  deafen 
ing  crash  of  the  wheels,  the  solemn  stroke  of  the  town 
clock,  chiming  the  dread  hour  of  noon. 

"  As  the  last  vibrations  of  the  town  clock  die  away,  we 
fire,  that  is  our  signal;"  those  were  the  words  the  poor  un 
happy  young  professor,  Paul  Rexford,  had  written. 

The  clock  was  striking  the  hour,  only  Heaven  could  tell 
whether  her  errand  of  life  or  death  would  avail. 

The  two  young  men  had  just  taken  their  places,  a  look 
of  calm  resolve  was  upon  Paul  Rexford's  face,  although  it 
was  very  pale.  His  nerves  were  tense,  and  his  hand  steady. 

A  look  of  vindictive  hate  shone  in  the  coal-black  eyes  of 
Charlie  Hart,  and  a  mocking  smile  played  around  his 
sneering  lips  as  he  took  his  place  and  glanced  at  his  oppo 
nent;  but  in  that  one  glance  a  sudden  change  had  come 
over  his  features  as  he  gazed  upon  the  quiet  man  before 
him,  with  the  dark  hair  and  whiskers,  and  the  thick 
double  blue  glasses. 

"  Ha!  we  have  met  before,"  cried  Charlie  Hart  under  his 
oreath.  "  I  have  anld  score  to  settle  with  you,  I  think. 


230  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

Are  you  ready?"  cried  Hart  insolently,  as  he  raised  his  re 
volver.  The  young  professor  bowed. 

Silently  they  faced  each  other,  listening  to  the  chimes 
that  would  in  all  probability  be  the  death-knell  to  one  oi 
them.  Clear  and  distinct,  the  last  stroke  broke  the  stillness. 

"  Fire!"  cried  the  young  professor  hoarsely,  and  at  that 
thrilling  instant  the  shrill  piercing  scream  of  a  woman 
broke  the  awful  stillness,  and  a  dust-covered  cab  dashed 
between  them,  while  the  foam-covered,  panting  steeds  quite 
hid  the  Combatants  from  each  other's  view,  and  the  door 
of  the  vehicle  was  wrenched  open,  and  Leonie,  white  as 
death,  sprung  to  the  young  professor's  side. 

Charlie  Hart  saw  Leonie,  and  her  presence  there  made 
him  desperate. 

"  Drive  those  horses  on,  or  I  will  shoot  them  down  in 
the  harness,"  he  cried  hoarse] y.  *'  I  am  a  desperate  man 
— too  desperate  to  be  trifled  with." 

One  cut  from  the  whip  which  he  snatched  from  the  cab 
man's  hand,  sent  the  steeds  and  vehicle  whirling  down  the 
road. 

"  Oh,  don't,  don't!"  shrieked  Leonie,  springing  between 
them.  "  I  beseech  you,  gentlemen,  for  my  sake,  stop!" 

"Leonie,"  whispered  Paul  Eexford,  hoarsely,  "leave 
me  to  face  the  villain.  I  will  defend  your  honor,  or  die  in 
the  attempt." 

4<  Then  it  is  to  the  other  one  that  1  must  plead,"  gasped 
Leonie,  wildly  throwing  herself  down  on  her  knees  before 
her  mortal  foe. 

"  Spare  him,"  sobbed  Leonie,  clasping  her  white  hands 
supplicatingly,  "  and  you  can  name  your  own  reward. 
This  fatal  duel  was  brought  about  for  my  sake,  and  for  my 
sake  I  pray  you  on  my  bended  knees  not  to  let  it  pro 
ceed." 

Charlie  Hart  looked  down  into  the  beautiful  uplifted 
face,  with  the  light  of  the  golden  sunshine  falling  upon  it, 
the  dark-brown  wealth  of  glossy  curls,  and  the  pleading 


LEONIE    LOCKS.  23: 

wine-dark  eyes,  and  parted  cri»son  lips — and.  a  diabolic*! 
thought  flashed  across  his  wicked  brain. 

"  The  duel  must  go  on,  and  the  insult  this  fellow  offered 
you  must  be  avenged,"  said  Paul  Rexford,  with  dignity. 

"  I  must  speak  one  word,"  cried  Leonie,  frantically; 
"  I  pray  you  to  listen  to  me — " 

'*  There  is  but  one  way  you  can  save  him,"  whispered 
Hart  hurriedly;  "  acknowledge  to  him  that  you  are  bound 
to  me,  and  this  duel — in  which  he  is  sure  to  go  down — will 
be  averted;  remember,  I  have  your  signature  and  the  world 
will  soon  know  it." 

"  Never!"  cried  Leonie;  "  I  would—" 

"  Yes,  I  think  you  will,  for  I  have  made  a  startling  dis 
covery/'  he  cried,  and  bending  down,  he  whispered  a  few 
words  in  the  girl's  ear.  They  were  but  a  few  words,  yet 
they  produced  the  most  tragic  effect  upon  Leonie  Locke; 
all  the  color  faded  from  her  lovely  face,  like  a  beautiful 
tender  flower  blasted  by  a  sudden  blaze  of  lightning,  and 
she  would  have  fallen  had  not  Charlie  Hart  put  out  his 
hand  and  caught  her,  drawing  her  to  a  close  embrace. 

"Villain!"  cried  Paul  Rexford,  darting  forward,  "do 
not  dare  to  clasp  your  arms  around  that  pure  young  girl, 
or  I  shall  strike  you  down  on  the  spot. " 

4<  What  do  you  say?"  cried  Hart,  still  retaining  his  hold 
of  the  willowy  girlish  figure.  No  sound  broke  from  her 
pale  lips,  but  with  the  white  agony  of  death  upon  her,  she 
bowed  her  beautiful  curly  head  as  a  token  of  assent. 

Charlie  Hart  understood. 

"  1  do  not  see  why  you  should  attempt  to  dictate  to  me 
vn  my  own  private  affairs,"  sneered  Hart,  crushing  the 
fchivering  form  still  closer;  "  you  may  as  well  know  the 
truth  first  as  last — Leonie  is  mine!" 

If  a  thunder-bolt  had  suddenly  fallen  from  a  clear  smiling 
summer  sky,  Paul  Rexford  could  not  have  been  more  as. 
tounded.  He  reeled  back,  as  though  a  terrible  blow  had 
been  suddenly  struck  him.  and.  great  drops  of  agonj 


LEONIE    LOCKE. 

gathered  on  his  brow,  hard  to  witness  on  the  face  el  one  8t 
brave  and  true.  He  could  not  believe  that  he  had  heard 
aright. 

"  Great  Heaven,  I  have  gone  mad!"  he  cried  hoarsely, 
v'r  I  can  not  believe  it.     Leonie,  I — " 

"  Tell  him  that  I  have  spoken  ,the  truth,  Leonie;  yon 
are  mine,  are  you  not?  Remember  his  life  hangs  on  your' 
answer/'  he  added,  sotto  voce. 

k  A  terrible  silence  fell  around  them;  for  a  moment  both 
of  them  thought  Leonie  was  dying;  then  she  raised  her  fair 
young  face  and  looked  at  the  young  professor,  while  the 
most  piteous  cry  that  ever  broke  from  mortal  lips,  echoed 
from  hers. 

"  Are  you  mine,  or  not?"  cried  Charlie  Hart,  threaten 
ingly. 

And  Leonie,  white  as  a  statue  carved  in  marble,  with  an 
agony  too  pitiful  to  be  pictured  with  words,  raised  her 
white  face,  and  with  a  voice  that  sounded  scarcely  human, 
answered,  "  Yes." 

"  Now  you  see  what  folly  it  is  to  meddle  with  other 
folks'  affairs,"  sneered  Charlie  Hart,  fairly  glowing  with 
wicked  triumph;  "  you  have  called  me  to  account  to-day, 
for  attempting  to  kiss  my  own  little  sweetheart.  1  have 
promised  her  that  the  duel  shall  not  take  place,  but  I  shall 
have  revenge  upon  you,  my  fine  aristocrat,"  and,  before 
the  astonished  young  professor  could  collect  his  scattered 
senses,  Charlie  Hart  leaped  suddenly  forward  and  treacher 
ously  dealt  him  a  terrible  blow,  crying  out:  "  No  man  caa 
come  between  Leonie  and  me — and  live." 

And  the  next  instant  the  young  professor,  with  a  crue] 
wound  on  his  temple  which  dyed  the  young  spring  grass, 
lay  senseless  at  his  feet. 

"  Oh,  you  have  killed  him!  you  have  killed  him!'* 
shrieked  Leonie,  wrenching  herself  free  from  Charlie  Hart's 
firm  grasp  and  flinging  herself  down  beside  the  prostrate 
form. 


LBONliS    LCCtfE.  233 

"I  hope  I  have,"  was  the  cruel  rejoinder.  "I  have 
vowed  to  do  it  more  than  once.  He  has  crossed  my  path — 
and  yours — too  often." 

But  Leonie  did  not  heed  him-  "  You  have  killed  him!" 
she  cried.  '*  If  he  is  dead,  I — weak  girl  though  I  am — I 
will  avenge  him!'* 

Something  in  her  voice  struck  a  chill  to  Charlie  Hart's 
breast,  villain  though  he  was.  He  loved  her  with  a  mad, 
wild,  passionate  love,  even  though  he  had  said  revenge  was 
sweeter,  and  to  see  her  bending  over  the  prostrate  form  of 
another,  was  more  than  he  could  tamely  endure. 

"  Leonie,  my  sweet  one,  come  away,"  he  cried,  eagerly; 
"  this  is  no  place  for  you."  In  an  instant  she  had  sprung 
to  her  feet,  her  brown,  starry  eyes  flashing  and  her  face 
fairly  glowing  with  superb  scorn.  "  Yours!"  she  reiter 
ated,  in  a  voice  quivering  with  horror;  "  it  is  false;  you 
forced  me  to  say  it,  as  the  price  of  his  life,  but  you  shaU 
never  claim  me,  I  will  die  first!  You  have  hunted  me  down 
and  wrecked  my  life,  but  you  can  not  follow  me  beyond  thu 
gates  of  death. "  i  • 

At  that  instant  several  horsemen  were  seen  advancing 
up  the  road,  and  Hart  knew  at  a  glance  that  they  were 
mounted  police,  who  had  heard  of  the  duel  and  had  come 
to  prevent  it,  and  if  he  were  found  there  an  arrest  would 
be  sure  to  follow. 

With  a  muttered  curse  at  being  obliged  to  flee,  and  leave 
Leonie  there,  he  turned  and  fled  precipitately  down  the 
road,  with  the  parting  warning  to  Leonie,  that  he  would 
publicly  claim  her  as  his  wife  before  the  sun  had  set 

Leoiiie  did  not  heed  him;  she  was  stooping  over  the 
prostrate  form  of  the  young  professor. 

The  blue  glasses  had  fallen  from  his  eyes,  and  as  Leonie 
raised  her  white  hand  to  his  bruised  temple,  it  brushed 
against  his  face,  displacing  a  false  beard,  and  a  wig  of 
raven-dark  hair  he  had  worn,  revealing  the  handsome  face 
of  Gordon  Carlisle* — Lftome  utterad  a  heart-rending 


234  LEON  IE    LOCTB. 

f &llmg  upon  her  knees  beside  him.  "  Oh,  my  love!  nrj 
love!  is  it  really  you?"  she  sobbed,  calling  him  by  ever} 
endearing  name,  and  begging  him  to  open  his  eyes  and 
speak  to  her.  It  was  no  dream;  it  was  Gordon  Carlisle, 
with  the  fair  handsome  beauty  of  King  Olaf,  who  had 
staked  his  life  for  her  sake.  Paul  Keif ord  and  Gordon 
Carlisle  were  one  and  the  same. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 

JNow  Leonie  realized  why  her  heart  had  gone  out  so 
strangely  to  the  quiet  young  professor— why  the  touch  of 
his  hand  had  thrilled  her  heart  so,  and  the  music  of  hi» 
yoice  seemed  strangely  familiar.  He  was  Gordon  Carlisle, 
the  young  lover  who  had  won  all  the  deep  affection  of  her 
girlish  heart.  Wealth  had  come  to  her  since,  and  position; 
but  it  was  only  a  mockery  without  his  love. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  whole  wide  world  that  can  fill 
the  void  in  the  desolate,  lonely  heart,  when  the  love  of 
some  one  for  whom  we  have  yearned  is  wanting. 

Why  had  he  come  to  her  in  disguise — Gordon  Carlisle, 
the  millionaire's  handsome  young  son  and  heir? 

Suddenly  she  thought  of  Dora  Lancaster's  words:  "  He 
loved  you  from  the  very  first,  and  he  loves  you  still;  and 
for  that  reason  I  vowed  to  take  the  crudest  vengeance 
upon  you  that  a  desperate  woman  ever  took  upon  a  rival!" 

"  He  loves  you  still."  How  the  words  rang  in  Leonie's 
ears!  She  took  the  handsome  golden  head  in  her  armSj 
lavishing  a  world  of  passionate  kisses  on  his  white  face, 
calling  him  by  every  endearing  name  to  open  his  eyes  and 
speak  to  her. 

At  last  the  dark-blue,  earnest  eyes  opened  wonderingly, 
and  Gordon  Carlisle  gazed  up  into  the  beautiful  face  bend 
ing  over  him. 

"  J  did  not  wait  until  noon  tc  read  your  letter,  Gordon,* 
she  sobbed. 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  235 

He  quite  believed  his  senses  were  playing  him  some  trick. 

'*  Leonie!"  he  cried,  making  no  attempt  to  free  himself 
from  the  clasp  of  her  arms,  "  am  I  dreaming,  or  is  it  your 
face  bending  over  me?  If  it  is  a  delusion,  I  pray  Heaven  I 
may  die  while  it  is  still  upon  me — it  is  so  sweet!  Leonie  I" 

**  Yes,  it  is  Leonie.  I  am  here,  Gordon,"  she  whis 
pered.  '*  Does  your  head  pain  you?  The  man  who  struck 
you  down  has  fled. " 

He  raised  his  white  hand  to  his  forehead,  and  he  missed 
the  false  curling  dark  hair  and  the  blue  glasses,  and  the 
thought  rushed  over  him,  she  had  called  him  by  his  own 
name — Gordon. 

Yes,  it  was  true;  the  man  had  fled,  and  he  was  alone 
with  Leonie,  at  last!  In  the  sweet,  sudden  delirium  of  the 
moment  he  forgot  all  that  had  befallen  him.  He  thought 
only  of  Leonie.  He  sprung  to  his  feet,  flushed  and  eager. 

"  Forgive  me  for  coming  to  your  home  in  that  disguise, 
my  darling,"  he  cried,  pointing  to  the  dark  hair  and  the 
glasses.  "To  be  near  you  was  a  temptation  I  could  not 
resist.  I  did  not  dream  you  would  ever  know.  I  loved 
you  so  madly,  so  passionately,  that  life  without  you  was 
more  bitter  than  death.  You  did  not  give  me  time  to  tell 
you  all  this  the  night  you  fled  from  my  father's  roof,  and 
when  I  came  back  from  the  library,  and  they  told  me  you 
had  gone,  the  shock  of  it  nearly  killed  me.  '  You  cared 
more  for  wealth  than  you  did  for  me/  that  is  what  they 
said. 

"  My  father  and  I  had  a  stormy  interview  in  the  library 
that  night,  and  he  told  me  I  must  choose  between  you  and 
his  wealth.  I  did  not  hesitate  for  an  instant  '  I  will 
choose  Leonie,  father/  I  answered  proudly. 

41  *  Then  you  shall  leave  my  roof — 1  disinherit  you  from 
this  moment/'  he  cried.  I  obeyed  him  and  hurried  to  tha 
library  to  take  you  with  me,  as  my  darling  little  wife,  out 
into  the  hard  bitter  world,  and  thyjfchey  told  me  you  had 
Jed,  Leonie. 


35  LEON  IE    LOCKE. 

"  From  wealth  and  affluence,  I  was  hurled  down  to  the 
depths  of  poverty.  Those  who  have  never  known  what 
wealth  and  power  is,  can  not  understand  the  horror  of  it 

"  I  had  only  my  education  to  fall  back  upon.  My  pride 
was  a  serious  drawback,  and  to  avoid  humiliation  I  adopted 
that  disguise. 

"  I  searched  for  you  night  and  day,  Leonie,  and  fate  was 
kind  at  last,  for  it  brought  us  face  to  face;  and  then  the 
mad  thought  occurred  to  me,  perhaps  my  great  love  might 
win  you,  and  you  might  learn  to  love  me — even  in  my  dis 
guise,  for  you  loved  me  once,  Leonie— you  told  me  so. " 

He  spoke  rapidly,  and  the  eager  flush  deepened  on  his 
friir  handsome  face,  which  was  all  aglow  with  the  light  of 
love.  In  the  excitement  of  the  moment  he  quite  forgot 
the  strange  incident  that  had  brought  him  there. 

He  held  out  his  arms  to  her  with  that  winning  smile  she 
remembered  but  too  well. 

"  You  loved  me  once — you  love  me  still,  Leonie/ '  he 
cried,  with  a  flash  of  sudden  hope;  "  I  am  not  vain,  but, 
darling,  I  am  not  blind — you  love  me.  You  are  not  his — 
the  coward  who  took  such  an  unmanly  advantage  of  a  rival; 
you  are  mine,  Leonie,  tell  me  so  with  your  own  sweet 
lips." 

Leonie  raised  her  white  face  to  the  smiling  heavens. 
Should  she  tell  him  then  and  there,  that  in  the  eyes  of  the 
law  she  was  bound  to  Charlie  Hart?  Let  me  have  just  one 
moment  of  happiness  first,  and  then  I  will  tell  him  all — 
was  the  yearning  cry  of  her  impassioned  heart.  Would  it 
be  a  ski  to  rest  in  his  arms  for  just  one  little  moment — to 
feel  his  kisses  on  her  white  face,  for  one  brief  instant — 
when  she  loved  him?  ah,  Heaven  alone  knew  how  dearly 
she  loved  him,  and  she  was  putting  him  out  of  her  life 
forever. 

'*  I  am  not  poor,  as  you  suppose,  Leonie,"  he  cried; 
'*  father  disinherited  me,  yet  since  then,  an  investment  I 
maUe  long  a^o  ha?  ttuneu  out  prosperously,  and  1  am  now  a 


LEONIE    LOCKS. 

millionaire  in  my  own  right  My  fortune  equate  yow  own, 
Leonie,  but  I  would  give  it  all  for  just  one  kind  word  from 
you — just  one  assurance  that  it  is  no  delusion — yon  lova 
me  still/* 

How  could  she  resist  his  pleadings,  when  she  loved  him 
so  well?  She  was  reckless  of  the  consequences.  Yes,  she. 
would  purchase  one  moment  of  happiness,  even  if  she  paid 
for  it  by  a  life-time  of  sorrow. 

"  I  love  you,  Gordon,"  she  sobbed,  "  I — I — love  you.'* 
Leonie  never  forgot  the  cry  of  rapturous  delight  that  broke 
from  his  lips,  nor  the  sudden  joyful  radiance  that  over^ 
spread  his  face. 

He  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  raining  a  world  of  passionate 
kisses  011  her  white  face,  on  the  beautiful  brown  curls,  and 
little  trembling  hands. 

"  My  darling — my  beautiful  darling,"  he  murmured, 
**  out  of  every  ill  some  good  may  accrue.  How  little  I 
thought  when  that  miscreant  challenged  me  to  stake  my 
life  against  his,  that  it  would  be  the  means  of  reuniting  uij. 
I  did  not  intend  that  you  should  know  anything  about  it 
until  it  was  all  over;  if  I  had  survived,  I  meant  to  go  far 
away,  and  you  would  never  have  known  Paul  Rexford  and 
Gordon  Carlisle  were  one  and  the  same.  Oh,  Leonie,  my 
sweet  one!  let  us  forget  the  past  and  in  the  future  live  only 
for  each  other. 

"  We  shall  be  married  this  very  day,  love,  if  you  are 
willing — and  when  you  are  once  my  wife  I — " 

The  beautiful  white  arms  fell  from  his  clasp,  and  the 
most  piteous  cry  that  ever  broke  from  a  pent-up  heart 
issued  from  her  lips. 

"  Let  me  be  happy  for  just  one  little  minute,  Gordon," 
she  sobbed,  "for  it  will  be  for  the  last  time,  perhaps, 
Tvhile  we  both  live.  Oh!  how  hard  it  is  for  me  to  tell  yo* 
the  truth;  but  I  must  do  it,  Gordon."  Her  courage  and 
self-command  broke  don.  all  *!^$noe,  and  she  faltered, 


238  LEONIB    LOCKE. 

"I — 1 — can  not  marry  you,  Gordon;  I  can  not  be  yow 

wife;  please  don't  be  angry  with  me."- 

Gordon  Carlisle's  face  grew  strangely  white. 

"  You  can  not  marry  me,  Leonie?"  he  cried.  "I  do 
not  understand  you.  Surely  you  are  not  trying  my  love 
for  you,  my  darling;  my  devotion  and  patience  must  have 
proved  that.  Tell  me  why  you  can  not  marry  me?" 

She  made  him  no  answer  but  shrunk  from  him,  her  facfc 
white  as  marble,  and  in  her  dark  velvety  eyes  the  look  of  a 
hunted  hare. 

"  Will  you  not  tell  me  why,  Leonie?"  he  asked,  attempt' 
ing  to  draw  her  once  more  within  his  sheltering  arms. 
"  We  love  each  other,  our  very  hearts  are  twined  together^ 
yon  would  not  lead  a  man  on  by  kind  words  and  smiles 
until  his  heart  lay  under  your  feet,  and  then  trample  on  it 
Leonie,  you  turn  your  face  away.  You  frighten  me,  my 
d/if  ling.  Have  you  no  word  for  me?" 

"  Ko,  Gordon,"  she  sobbed.  "Heaven  help  us,  we 
could  not  be  further  apart  if  one  of  us  were  lying  dead. 
Do  not  look  at  me  like  that;  you  are  killing  me,  Gordon. 
We  must  part.  Fate  has  torn  us  asunder,  like  many  an 
other.  We  are  lost  to  each  other  while  we  live,"  she 
cobbed  pathetically. 

"  Do  you  love  me,  Leonie,  or  are  you  trifling  with  me?" 
he  asked  sternly.  "  I  can  not  give  you  up.  My  love  and 
my  life  are  so  twined  together  that  if  one  goes  the  other 
goes." 

"  I  love  you,  Gordon,"  she  wailed,  "  do  not  torture  me 
so;  but  fate  is  against  us.  We  are  parted.  I  can  not 
marry  you. " 

Hot  anger  flashed  in  Gordon  Carlisle's  face. 

"  What  am  I  to  think,  Leonie?"  he  cried  in  an  agitated 
voice.  "  You  tell  me  you  love  me,  yet  you  can  not  marry 
me." 

She  stood  up  before  him,  her  white  bands  locked  to 
gether  over  her  heavjnjt  breast,  and  a  look  of  agony  on  her 


LEONtE    LGCKfc. 

face.  Ah,  how  could  she  tell  him  what  was  to  part  them 
forever!  For  one  moment  only  the  sighing  of  the  wind 
among  the  branches  broke  the  terrible  stillness. 

"  I  will  tell  you,  Gordon,  why  I  can  not  marry  you/* 
she  wailed*  "I  love  you — oh!  Gordon,  I  love  you  ae 
woman  never  loved  man  before,  but  we  are  parted,  for  I 
am  bound  to  another.  The  law  calls  me  Charlie  Hart*£ 
wife!" 


CHAPTER  XLVL 

GORDON  CARLISLE  looked  at  her  as  though  he  did  not 
quite  understand.  He  stood  so  motionless  before  ker  with 
his  arms  folded  over  his  broad  chest  that  he  frightened  her. 

"  Pity  me,  Gordon,  it  is  very  true/'  she  repeated,  de 
spairingly.  "  I  am  bound  to  the  man  who  so  cowardly 
dealt  you  that  cruel  blow,  and  then  fled." 

A  terrible  groan  escaped  his  white,  set  lips,  and  his  fair, 
handsome  face  grew  ghastly  in  its  pallor. 

"  Heaven  forgive  you.  Leonie,  for  I  never  can  while  life 
lasts!  You  knew  that  you  were  bound  to  this  man,  yet  you 
lured  me  on  to  love  you.  You  knew  I  could  not  resist 
loving  you,  yet  no  word  of  warning  fell  from  your  lips. 
You  have  let  me  declare  my  love  for  you  for  the  second 
time,  and  still  you  led  me  on,  when  you  were  another  man's 
wife.  Oh,  the  horror  of  it!  the  pity  of  it!  You  have 
ruined  me!  and  I  repeat,  I  can  never  forgive  you  for  lur 
ing  me  on  to  destruction.  I  thought  you  as  pure  and  as 
true  as  the  angels  are  up  in  heaven." 

"  Oh,  Gordon,  pity  me!  pity  me!"  gasped  Leonie,  "  do 
not  turn  from  me;  don't  you  see  you  are  breaking  my 
heart?  I  do  not  love  him,  I — " 

Gordon  Carlisle  turned  from  her  with  a  terrible  cry. 
'*  Do  not  say  another  word,"  he  cried,  hoarsely,  "  it  woufo 
only  avid  to  your  sin.  1  am  an  honorable  man,  and  tc  *ne 
fliere  is  no  crime  SQ  great  in  the  whole  wide  world  as  th* 


LOOKS.          , 

one  in  which  I  find  myself  placed — that  of  loving  anothet 
man's  wife.  God  alone  knows  how  dear  yon  are  to  me» 
bat  I  would  die  now  sooner  than  tonch  those  lips  or  clasp 
your  hands.  You  have  done  the  most  cruel  wrong  to  ine 
that  woman  can  do  to  man;  you  have  betrayed  and  de 
ceived  me  into  loving  you.  I  shall  never  look  upon  a  wonv 
an's  false,  fair  face  again.  1  shall  hate  the  whole  sex  be 
cause  I  found  the  fairest  of  them  so  cruelly  false.  Great 
Heaven!  keep  me  from  losing  my  reason!  I  fear  I  am  go 
ing  mad.  There  is  nothing  on  earth  so  cruelly  false  as  a 
beautiful  woman,"  he  cried.  "  Go  back  to  your  husband; 
your  place  is  by  his  side,  not  mine.  I  wonder  that  he  left 
you  here;  I  can  not  understand  it."  Gordon  Carlisle 
laughed  a  bitter  laugh.  "  There  are  stranger  things  hap 
pening  in  real  life  than  any  of  the  romances  furnished  na 
from  a  novelist's  pen,"  he  cried.  '*  Oh,  the  mockery  of 
it!  I  challenged  a  man  to  fight  a  duel  for  daring  to  at- 
tempt  to  persecute  the  woman  1  loved  —  her  whom  1 
thought  little  less  than  the  angels,  and  it  turns  out  that 
that  woman  was  his  own  wife.  And  to  add  insult  to  in 
jury,  she  tells  me  she  loves  me — false  to  both  of  us.  May 
Heaven  forgive  you,  Leonie  Locke!" 

Oh!  how  cruelly  he  misunderstood  her.  If  she  had  only 
knelt  at  his  feet  then  and  there  and  explained  the  whola 
matter  to  him — how  she  had  been  forced  into  signing  that 
paper,  which  the  lawyer  had  told  her  bound  her  legally  to 
Charlie  Hart,  how  different  life  might  have  been  for  then) 
both. 

"  He  judges  me  without  hearing  my  side  of  the  story,'* 
she  thought,  with  bitter  humiliation.  "  How  hard  and 
cruel  he  is." 

If  he  had  only  spoken  one  kind  word  to  her  in  that  awful 
moment  the  whole  world  might  have  been  changed  for 
those  two  hearts  that  loved  each  other  so. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  »id»  kn*kilyj  Ji  I  am  going  out  of  yom 


LEON1B    LOCKE. 

Hfe  forever — going  where  1  can  never  look  upon  the  face 
of  a  woman  again  I" 

Leonie  took  a  step  nearer,  clasping  his  arm  entreatingly 
trith  her  white  hands. 

"Don't  go,  Gordon!"  she  wailed,  "  I— I  could  not  live 
without  you. " 

"  You  should  have  thought  of  that  before/'  he  an 
swered,  gloomily. 

She  was  weeping  so  bitterly  that  in  sheer  pity  he  UD- 
c?asped  the  little  white  hands  that  held  his  arm  so  tightly, 
aid  attempted  to  move  away. 

Still  she  clung  to  him. 

"  Ycu  must  listen  to  me,  Gordon,"  she  moaned;  *'  do 
not  condemn  me  without — without — " 

"  Do  not  try  to  tempt  me,  Leonie,"  he  cried,  "  if  you 
have  any  reverence,  respect  for  me,  send  me  from  you  at 
once  !  Your  smiles,  your  caresses  are  not  for  me.  I  am  a 
broken-hearted  man.  You  have  lured  my  heart  from  me; 
now  do  not  attempt  to  lure  from  me  my  strength  to  resist 
you.  Remember,  I  am  only  human.  The  deepest  Jove 
that  ever  burned  in  a  man's  bosom  burns  in  mine.  Do  not 
cling  to  me;  let  me  go!  Laugh  my  love  to  scorn  if  you 
will;  taunt  me  with  your  fair,  false  lips — anything  rather 
ihan  plead  with  me  to  stay!" 

He  turned  away  abruptly.  One  more  glance  at  those 
lovely,  wine-dark  eyes  drowned  in  tears,  and  the  strength 
of  his  manhood  would  have  given  way. 

"Farewell!  my  beautiful,  false  love,"  he  cried;  "my 
fair,  false  love,  farewell  forever!" 

But  the  clinging  clasp  of  the  cold,  white  fingers  tight 
ened.  '  Leonie's  face  was  deathly  pale. 

"  Oh,  Gordon! — Gordon!"  she  gasped,  clinging  to  him 
with  a  strength  born  of  desperation.  "  1  can  not  live  with 
out  you.  You  must  take  me  with  you." 

There  was  an  agony  of  death  on  the  white,  lovely  face 
raised  to  his,  and,  although  the  words  startled  him  terri- 


UBOXIB    LOCKE. 

biy,  he  quite  believed  she  did  not  understand  or  realize 
what  she  was  asking.  Tears  were  raining  down  her  beau 
tiful  face,  and  he  knew  they  were  called  to  those  dark  eyes 
for  love  of  him,  and  he  could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to 
turn  upon  her  and  reprove  her.  He  was  moved  to  the  very 
depths  of  his  heart.  Oh!  how  cruelly  hard  it  was,  for  those 
who  loved  each  other  so,  to  part — only  those  who  have 
joved  know  the  horror  of  that  word.  But  Gordon  Carlisle 
was  a  man  of  honor;  he  would  tear  himself  from  her 
though  his  very  heart  broke  in  the  struggle.  Leonie  did 
not  realize  what  she  asked,  and  he  must  protect  her,  even 
from  himself  and  his  worshipful  love. 

"  A  wife's  place  is  by  her  husband's  side/'  he  cried, 
hoarsely.  "  I  am  going  to  take  you  to  your  husband  and 
apologize  to  him  for  interfering  between  you.  Heaven 
help  me!  I  did  not  dream  you  were  his  wife.  Come, 
Leonie." 

"Oh!  no,  no,  Gordon,"  she  gasped;  "  I  will  kill  myself 
first;  you  do  not  know  all..  Kiss  my  face  just  once,  Gor- 
lon,  for  the  last  time,  and  it  will  give  me  strength  to  cell 
JWU." 

Gordon  was  only  a  mortal  man.  It  was  for  the  last 
time.  How  could  he  refuse?  He  clasped  her  in  his  arms, 
raining  down  a  world  of  passionate  kisses  on  the  beautiful 
face,  asking  himself  over  and  over  again  how  he  could  ever 
leave  her,  what  would  life  be  like  without  her.  Heaven 
help  him!  he  could  not  leave  her. 

"  Take  me  with  you,  Gordon/'  she  pleaded. 

And  at  that  moment  Charlie  Hart  leaped  into  the  path 
before  them,  crying,  hoarsely:  "  I  have  something  to  say 
^bout  that,  for  I  claim  you,  Leonie.  You  are  my  wife!" 

No  word  broke  from  Gordon   Carlisle's  white  lips  as 

Charlie  Hart  sprung  into  the  path,  and  angrily  exclaimed, 

'  Leonie. "    His  arms  fell  heavily  from  her,  and  he  turned 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  243 

• 

-  •'•'  You  shaU  answer  to  me  for  this/'  hissed  Hart,  "  an4 
the  next  time  I  shall  have  full  satisfaction.  " 

Leonie  had  fallen  at  Gordon's  feet  in  a  dead  faint,  but 
he  had  no  right  to  raise  her  —  to  pillow  her  beautiful  head 
on  his  breast  and  protect  her.  She  was  another's. 

The  pitying  sunshine  never  fell  upon  a  sadder  scene: 
the  handsome  young  lover  who  had  been  separated  from 
Leonie  by  such  a  cruel  conspiracy  taking  a  mute  farewell 
of  her  forever.  He  who  loved  her  so  passionately,  so  truly, 
must  never  look  upon  her  face  again  —  never  while  they 
both  lived.  Only  Heaven  knew  the  bitter  anguish  of  that 
moment.  And  it  made  it  all  the  harder  to  bear  to  know 
that  Leonie  loved  him,  even  as  he  loved  her. 

In  the  recklessness  of  the  moment  he  little  cared  what 
became  of  him;  all  love  and  happiness  were  over  for  him, 
and  he  did  not  care  for  life  that  would  have  to  be  lived 
without  her.  Gordon  Carlisle  loved  as  men  love  but  once 
in  a  life-  time. 

"  I  will  give  you  as  much  satisfaction  as  you  want/'  he 
aaid,  turning  hastily  to  Charlie  Hart,  "  Take  your  —  your 
-~wife  up  to  the  hotel;  then  come  back.  I  will  wait  for 
/uu  here." 

Charlie  Hart  needed  no  second  bidding.  He  gathered 
Leonie's  slight  figure  in  his  arms,  and,  hailing  a  coach 
waich  luckily  was  passing  at  that  moment,  placed  Leonie 
within  it,  and  was  soon  whirling  rapidly  in  the  direction  of 
the  hotel,  and  on  to  his  fate. 


CHAPTER  XLVIL 

A  STILL  summer  night.  A  young  moon  had  risen,  and 
was  set  like  a  jewel  in  the  cloudless  sky,  blue  as  the  heart 
of  a  sapphire.  The  stars  had  climbed  the  opal  steeps  and 
fixed  themselves  slowly  one  by  one  in  the  glittering 
neavens,  au<l  the  calm  beauty  of  a  still  summer  night  lay 
over  the  earth. 


244  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

In  her  room  in  the  Lexington  Avenue  mansion,  Aimee, 
die  faithful  maid,  sat  by  the  open  window  waiting  patient 
ly  for  the  dawn. 

The  long  hours  of  the  day  had  dragged  slowly  by,  yet 
Leonie  had  not  returned,  and  the  girl  was  sorely  fright 
ened. 

A  thous^id  imaginary  evils  that  might  have  befallen  her 
young  mistress  rushed  through  her  brain,  and  in  the  midst 
of  it  all  Dora  Lancaster's  face  rose  up  before  her. 

She  started  to  her  feet  with  a  low  cry,  for  she  remem 
bered  seeing  her  drive  off  in  Miss  Lancaster's  carriage. 

'*  If  ill  had  befallen  Leonie,  smiling,  wicked  Dora  was 
Bnrely  at  the  bottom  of  it,"  she  told  herself. 

All  that  night  the  girl  paced  up  and  down  the  floor  of 
her  room,  wondering  if  it  were  best  to  make  a  clear  con 
fession  of  all  she  knew  concerning  Dora. 

She  took  the  diamond  ring  from  her  bosom,  gazing  at  it 
long  and  earnestly;  the  glittering  ring  which  had  been  the 
price  of  her  silence  concerning  that  midnight  tragic  es 
capade. 

As  she  twisted  it  about  on  he'-  brown  hand  the  door  of 
an  adjoining  room  cautiously  opened,  and  a  pair  of  keen, 
gray  eyes  gazed  searchingly  upon  her  from  the  small  apert 
ure.  The  gaslight  fell  full  upon  a  badge  on  the  breast  of 
a  man's  coat — the  badge  of  a  detective.  The  intruder 
closed  the  door  as  noiselessly  as  he  had  opened  it,  a  strange 
smile  curling  the  corners  of  his  thin  lips. 

"  My  patience  has  been  rewarded  at  last,"  he  muttered, 
rubbing  his  hands  softly  together;  "  I  have  found  a  clew 
to  the  missing  diamonds,  I  have  only  to  follow  up  the  lead 
to  make  a  clear  case  of  it " 

Walking  slowly  to  his  room,  he  threw  himself  down  upon 
the  bed,  indulging  in  the  first  sleep  he  had  had  for  the  past 
week — since  the  night  of  the  grand  ball. 

Mrs.  Barrett  had  never  been  quite  satisfied  with  the 
alight  explanation^!^01*1**  had  vouchsafed  concerning  her 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  245 

sudden  mysterious  disappearance,  and  she  had  discovered 
another  startling  fact  too—  Leonie's  diamonds  were  miss 
ing,  yet  she  had  never  even  mentioned  her  great  loss. 

Mrs.  Barrett  was  mystified.  What  could  it  mean?  She 
determined  to  sift  this  strange  affair  to  the  foundation. 

In  response  to  her  note  to  head-quarters,  an  experienced 
detective  was  placed  at  her  disposal.  He  .listened  atten 
tively  to  the  facts,  as  she  related  them,  jotting  down  a  few 
incidents  as  she  went  along. 

Quite  ingeniously,  with  all  the  cunning  of  his  crafty 
profession,  he  drew  from  her  the  romantic  story  of  Leonie'& 
life,  putting  it  down  in  short-hand  as  she  related  it. 

"  She  wore  the  diamonds  the  night  of  the  ball?"  ha 
asked,  interrogatively. 

Mrs.  Barrett  bowed  assent. 

"  I  shall  never  forget  how  brilliantly  they  sparkled — like 
rivers  of  fire — on  her  rounded  white  arms,  her  plump  neck, 
and  amid  the  rings  of  her  soft,  dark  hair.  Every  one  re 
marked  that  they  were  a  fortune  in  themselves. 

"  You  say  she  went  up  to  one  of  the  boudoirs  to  lie 
down?" 

Mrs.  Barrett  nodded  affirmatively. 

"  And  shortly  after  you  heard  a  suppressed  cry  emanat* 
mg  from  that  particular  room?" 

"  I  am  quite  positive  I  heard  a  piercing  cry  from  that 
particular  room.  The  voice  was  like  Leonie's  and  the  cry 
was  repeated  twice,  then  suddenly  hushed.  I  could  heai 
it  more  plainly  than  those  in  the  ball-room  below,  for  I  was 
in  the  corridor,  not  very  far  from  the  door. " 

The  detective  made  a  note  of  this,  and  pursued  his  in 
quiries  in  another  direction. 

"  Have  you  arrived  at  any  theory?"  asked  Mrs.  Barrett, 
curiously,  as  he  placed  the  note-book  in  his  breast-pocket. 

"It  is  rather  early  to  advance  a  theory,  madame,"  re 
turned  the  detective,  but,  as  you  say  the  diamonds  were 
last  seen  on  that  occasion,  it  is  my  belief  they  were  stolen 


248  LEOXIE    LOCKE. 

en  that  occasion.  And  the  suppressed  &3ream  leads  me  ta 
the  impression  that  she  discovered  the  thief  in  the  act  of 
taking  the  jewels,  and  the  face  was  net  altogether  a  strange 
one  to  her." 

This  announcement  was  so  startling  to  Mrs.  Barrett  that 
it  almost  took  her  breath  away. 

"  Why  do  you  think  such  an  utter  impossibility  as  that?* 
she  demanded,  in  astonishment. 

"  First  from  the  fact  that  her  cries  were  suddenly 
hushed,  and  when  you  appeared  at  the  door-way  her 
actions  were  nervous  and  constrained;  and,  secondly,  from 
the  very  peculiar  fact  that  she  did  not  mention  their  loss, 
preferring  to  lose  them  —  this  princely  fortune  —  rather 
than  allow  *>n  investigation  to  be  made.  This  fact  is 
strongly  apparent  to  me,  madame." 

Still  Mrs.  Barrett  looked  increduloas;  such  a  thought 
would  never  have  occurred  to  her,  yet  she  was  forced  to 
limit  to  herself  that  the  theory  certainly  did  look  prob 
able. 

"  The  next  point  in  the  net-work  of  circumstances  is  t*» 
find  out  the  names  of  all  who  attended  that  particular  ball, 
and  who  among  them  the  lady  was  acquainted  with.  And 
if  there  was  one  among  them  upon  whom  the  young  heir 
ess  smiled  with  favor." 

The  lawyer's  wife  was  thoughtful  for  a  moment. 

"  There  was  one  person  there  whom  I  think  Leonie  care* 
for  more  than  she  would  be  willing  to  admit,  the  son  of  an 
intimate  friend  of  mine.  I  remember  they  had  quite  a 
lengthy  conversation  in  the  conservatory  that  evening. " 

"  His  name,  if  you  please,  madame,"  said  the  detective. 

And  Mrs.  Barrett  answered,  slowly: 

"Gordon  Carlisle." 

"Is  he  the  eon  of  one  of  the  members  of  the  firm  of 
Lincoln  &  Carlisle?"  questioned  the  detective,  after  a  mo 
ment  of  silence. 

Again  Mrs.  Barrett  bowed  assent 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  24? 

For  a  moment  the  keen  detective  knitted  his  brows  to* 
gether. 

"  Ah!"  he  thought;  "  this  is  the  handsome,  debonair, 
reckless  young  fellow  whom  John  Carlisle  disinherited  a 
few  months  since,  and  the  quarrel  was  such  a  bitter  one  the 
hot-headed  youth  left  the  paternal  mansion,  taking  up  his 
abode  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel.  Without  visible  means 
of  support  what  has  kept  up  this  luxurious  and  expensive 
living?  Ah,  there's  the  rub/'  he  muttered,  sot  to  voce. 

Mrs.  Barrett,  clever-witted  little  lady  though  she  was, 
did  not  quite  comprehend  the  strange  turn  the  detective '» 
thoughts  were  taking. 

That  night,  when  the  clocks  of  the  neighboring  belfries 
were  striking  the  dead  hour  of  midnight,  the  detective, 
with  a  dark  lantern,  was  carefully  searching  Leonie's 
apartments  for  some  clew  to  further  the  chain  of  evidence 
he  had  woven  in  his  mind. 

"  The  young  lady  would  shield  this  dastardly  thief,"  h& 
muttered;  "  and  there  is  but  one  way  to  account  for  it — 
she  loves  him.  Ah!  what  is  this?"  he  exclaimed,  stopping 
short  before  a  package  carefully  placed  in  a  velvet  case  in 
a  pearl  inlaid  writing-desk. 

A  portrait —blotted  here  and  there  with  tear  stains,  the 
portrait  of  a  handsome  young  man  with  fair  curling  hair 
and  mustache,  deep-blue  eyes  and  a  winning  smile,  and  be 
neath  the  portrait  were  written  the  startling  words  iu  g 
pretty  feminine  hand: 

"  Gordon  Carlisle,  my  lost  love/' 

CHAPTER   XLVIII. 

A  TRIUMPHANT  look  crossed  the  detective's  face  as  he 
transferred  the  portrait  of  Gordon  Carlisle  to  his  breast 
pocket. 

The  next  day  all  the  pawn-shops  were  visited,  and,  at 
Hast,  the  diamonds  were  traced. 


848  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

The  stones  were  identified  by  the  dealer  who  had  sold 
them  to  Leonie,  also  by  the  lapidary  through  whose  bauds 
they  had  passed. 

The  broker,  in  whose  possession  they  were  found,  stated 
that  they  had  been  brought  there  the  night  before  by  a 
woman  closely  veiled  and  all  alone.  She  did  not  quite  look 
the  lady.  In  her  eagerness  to  dispose  of  the  jewels  she 
lifted  the  veil  for  one  brief  instant,  and  then  drew  it  down 
over  her  face  again  with  a  startled  cry;  but,  in  that  in 
stantaneous  glance,  he  had  caught  sight  of  a  pair  of  black, 
glittering  eyes  and  a  face  that,  he  told  himself,  it  would  bd 
easy  to  remember. 

"  So  there  was  a  woman  implicated  in  the  affair/'  mused 
the  detective,  as  he  quietly  wended  his  way  toward  Lexing 
ton  Avenue — "  a  woman  who  did  not  quite  '  look  the 
lady/  as  the  broker  had  quaintly  phrased  it." 

The  detective's. next  step  was  to  find  Gordon  Carlisle  at 
tha  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel;  but  here  he  was  met  with  a  dis 
appointment — that  gentleman  had  left,  bag  and  baggage., 
the  day  before. 

"  I  must  find  out  what  that  conversation  in  the  conserv 
atory  was  about,  on  the  night  of  the  ball.  Perhaps  a  run 
out  of  town  for  a  few  hours  might  give  me  food  for 
thought/'  mused  the  detective,  boarding  the  first  outgoing 
train. 

A  change  of  scene  might  turn  his  ideas  into  new  chan 
nels.  There  was  nothing  like  a  few  hours  of  quiet  country 
life  for  planning  a  great  case  like  this. 

"  Where  to?"  asked  the  ticket-seller. 

"  The  first  stopping  place,  provided  there's  a  hotel 
there/'  replied  the  detective,  laconically. 

"  It's  a  through  train  to  Hartford.  No  stops  between 
here  and  New  London;  that's  quite  a  stirring  place,  with 
Al  hotels,"  said  the  ticket  agent. 

"  All  right,  book  me  to  New  London.  I'll  take  a  look 
at  it,  anyhow;  I've  }&**  there 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  249 

A  moment  later  he  was  seated  in  the  smoking  car,  puff 
ing  thoughtfully  away,  watching  the  green  fields  and  hazy, 
dandelion-covered  hills  through  the  clouds  of  cigar-smoke, 
wondering  in  which  direction  he  ought  to  strike  first. 

How  quiet  the  thrifty  little  town  looked,  tinder  the  light 
of  the  summer  sun! 

The  detective  was  in  no  particular  hurry;  his  time  was 
his  own,  and,  as  he  saw  it  wanted  two  hours  of  dinner' 
time,  he  employed  the  time  in  strolling  about,  revolving 
the  '*  diamond  case  "  as  he  passed  leisurely  along. 

"  Have  your  fortune  told,  sir?" 

The  voice  broke  in  abruptly  upon  his  reverie,  and  he 
glanced  quickly  up  to  see  a  pretty  gypsy  maiden  in  a 
bright,  fantastic  dress,  courtesying  in  the  path  before  him. 

'*  Have  your  fortune  told,  sir?"  she  repeated.  "  If 
there's  anything  on  your  heart  that  troubles  you,  I  can  un 
ravel  the  deep  mystery  for  you.  I  am  Zara,  the  seventh 
daughter  of  the  seventh  son,"  and  she  smiled  up  coyly 
iuto  his  face. 

The  detective  laughed  an  amused  laugh,  and  an  im 
pulse  suddenly  seized  him  to  hear  what  she  would  tell  him 
— it  would  pass  away  a  few  moments,  and  perhaps  give 
him  a  new  idea  to  work  upon. 

"  You  have  business  of  great  importance  on  hand/'  she 
oaid,  slowly. 

"  That's  what  you  tell  them  all,  I  presume/'  he  replied, 
kossing  over  the  customary  silver  coins;  "  but  go  on,  my 
good  girl,  I  admit  you  have  struck  the  right  trail  this 
time." 

The  gypsy  girl  smiled.  "  I  must  tell  him  something 
about  love,"  she  thought;  "  all  men  like  to  hear  of  that." 

And  glancing  up,  she  saw  that  his  eyes  were  gray,  and 
he  was  medium  fair,  and  she  shrewdly  guessed  he  would  be 
apt  to  like  a  dark-eyed  woman  best  "  And  I  see  some 
thing  more,"  she  said,  aloud;  "  a  pair  of  levers — and  the 


250  LEOKIE    LOCKE. 

girl  is  dark,  and  the  man  fair.     Yon  are  dogging  their 
footsteps." 
A  strange  interest  leaped  into  the  detective's  keen,  gray 


"  If  I  did  not  know  this  was  all  jargon  I  would  say  that 
you  are  a  witch,"  he  muttered,  testily. 

"  You  may  call  me  a  witch  if  you  like,  but  you  know  I 
have  spoken  the  truth,"  she  answered,  with  a  saucy  shakt 
of  her  long  jetty  braids. 

"  I  am  on  the  track  of  a  pair  of  lovers,"  he  said,  jocu 
larly;  "  and  now,  pretty  *  Witch  of  Endor/  tell  me  where 
I  shall  be  likely  to  find  this  fair-faced  youth  upon  whom 
the  dark-eyed  young  girl  looks  with  favor,  or  I  shall  not 
believe  in  your  wonderful  powers." 

4  '  Go  to  the  fork  of  the  roads,  a  mile  hence,  and  ask  that 
question  of  the  first  person  whom  you  shall  meet,  and  he 
will  tell  you."  And  with  another  saucy  nod,  the  pretty 
gypsy  with  the  fantastic  dress,  who  had  so  ingeniously 
avoided  answering  a  direct  question,  turned  and  fled  down 
the  path. 

The  detective  laughed  and  walked  on;  but,  strangely 
enough,  he  walked  straight  toward  the  fork  of  the  roads 
just  as  a  clock  in  an  adjoining  steeple  chimed  the  noon 
hour.  For  a  few  moments  he  walked  along  in  silence, 
then  a  clattering  of  horses'  hoofs  broke  the  stillness,  and 
two  mounted  policemen  galloped  quickly  down  the  road. 

The  detective  was  well  known  to  both  of  them,  and  de 
spite  their  great  hurry,  they  drew  rein  for  a  few  moments' 
.chat 

"  What's  up  now?"  inquired  the  detective.  "  Any 
thing  of  extra  importance  on  foot?  I'm  sorry  I  haven't  a 
horse  here,  or  I  would  accompany  you  just  for  the  novelty 
of  the  thing." 

"  We're  going  to  head  off  a  duel  if  we  can,"  returned 
one  of  the  men.  "  The  distance  is  trifling—  up  at  the 
fork  of  the  roads  about  half  a  milSLshead;  you  can  easily 


LEOKIK    LOCKE.  351 

make  it  on  foot  if  yon  walk  pretty  sharp.  There  may  be 
lots  of  fan  before  you,  and  you'd  better  be  on  hand  to  take 
it  in." 

The  men  nodded  and  galloped  off  while  the  detective 
followed  more  leisurely. 

"  A  duel,  eh — on  the  outskirts  of  the  town — that's  quite 
a  sensation  for  the  quiet,  easy-going  New  Londoners/'  he 
ejaculated  to  himself  as  he  quickened  his  pace  in  the  direc 
tion  indicated. 

At  that  moment  the  coach  which  contained  Leonie, 
dashed  quickly  past  him.  He  saw  a  beautiful  terrified 
girlish  face  at  the  window,  framed  iu  a  mass  of  soft  broww 
curls,  and  in  that  instantaneous  glance  he  recognized  hei. 

"  Leonie  Locke!"  he  ejaculated,  in  intense  surprise, 
fairly  rooted  to  the  spot;  "  well,  well,  this  is  getting  inter 
esting.  I  always  was  a  lucky  fellow,  and  by  Jove!  it  must 
be  my  lucky  star  that  sent  me  here  to-day;  it's  better  to 
be  born  lucky  than  rich.  I've  got  a  heavy  per  cent,  of  the 
one,  and  if  I  am  right  in  my  calculations,  I'll  have  a  still 
Heavier  per  cent,  of  the  other  before  many  days. " 

A  few  feet  ahead  he  saw  the  mounted  police,  who  had 
alighted  from  their  steeds,  and  were  engaged  in  an  earnest 
^Conversation  with  a  young  man  leaning  against  the  trunk 
of  a  tree  by  the  road-side. 

This  young  man  was,  in  all  probability,  one  of  the  parties 
who'  had  been  about  to  participate  in  the  duel,  the  detect 
ive  concluded.  "Was  it  merely  a  coincidence  that  brought 
the  carriage  containing  Leonie  Locke  to  this  particular 
point  where  a  duel  was  to  be  fought?  was  she  concerned  in 
it  in  any  way?  The  detective  was  in  deep  water. 

As  he  drew  near  he  could  see  that  no  carriage  was  in 
sight,  but  he  observed  at  a  glance  irom  the  impress  of  the 
wheels  on  the  soft  turf,  that  the  carriage  had  evidently 
stopped  at  that  particular  spot,  and  then  passed  on. 

Only  one  of  the  parties  seemed^  to  be  there,  and  that  was 


252  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

the  one  to  whom  the  policemen  were  talking  and  gesticu 
lating. 

The  young  man  stood  with  his  back  toward  tie  detective 
as  he  advanced,  and  he  saw  lying  on  the  green  grass  before 
nim — a  dark  wig — a  mustache  of  the  same  raven  hue,  and 
a  pair  of  dark-blue  double  glasses.  The  fair-haired  young 
man  leaning  against  the  tree  kad  evidently  been  in  dis 
guise. 

At  the  sound  of  swiftly  approaching  footsteps,  he  turned! 
gracefully  around.  The  sunlight  drifted  down  through 
the  green  foliage  upon  his  fair,  handsome  face. 

The  detective  gave  a  sudden  start,  accustomed  hourly 
though  he  was  to  strange  and  thrilling  surprises.  In  a 
moment  he  sprung  forward,  laying  his  hand  heavily  on 
Gordon's  arm  as  he  produced  an  official  package  from  his 
breast-pocket. 

"  You  are  my  prisoner,  Mr.  Carlisle,"  he  said,  quietly. 
Gordon  drew  back  with  an  exclamation  of  intense  astonish. 
ment 

'*  Upon  what  charge?"  he  demanded,  haughtily,  and 
the  detective  answered,  slowly: 

"  The  charge  of  theft,  for  stealing  diamonds  from  a 
New  York  heiress;  perhaps  you  know  her — Miaa  Leonid 
Locke?" 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

THE  coach  accident  had  proven  a  most  serious  affair  tc 
Dora  Lancaster.  Her  fair,  round  cheek  had  come  in  con 
tact  with  the  jagged  edge  of  the  curb-stone  and  had  been 
fearfully  lacerated. 

All  that  human  ingenuity  could  suggest  had  been  done 
for  her,  but  it  was  quite  useless — the  horrible  scars  on  her 
cheek  could  not  be  effaced. 

When  she  called  for  the  hand-glass,  Mrs.  Stuart,  the 
housekeeper,  trembled.  — la.  *  ntaoMuit*  when  consciousness 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  258 

had  returned,  and  she  found  herself  lying  on  her  own  bed 
at  home,  she  realized  what  had  happened. 

Fate  had  foiled  her;  Leonie  Locke  had  escaped  from  the 
doom  she  had  planned  for  her,  and  the  worst  part  of  the 
whole  matter  was,  depending  so  entirely  upon  the  success 
of  her  scheme,  she  had  daringly  taunted  Leonie  with  the 
fate  that  awaited  her,  and  she  had  told  her  that  Gordon 

Carlisle  still  loved  her. 

« 

In  the  depths  of  her  wicked  heart  she  hoped  Leonie  was 
dead.  If  she  had  been  killed  what  a  world  of  future 
trouble  it  would  save  her! 

"  What  became  of  the  young  girl  that  was  with  me  in 
the  coach/'  she  asked,  turning  her  face  to  the  wall  and 
listening  breathlessly. 

"  She  escaped  unhurt, "  replied  Mrs.  Stuart,  and  she 
almost  fancied  a  smothered  cry  of  anger  burst  from  the 
white  lips  buried  beneath  the  bed-clothes. 

"  Did  you  send  word  to  Gordon  at  the  Fifth  Avenue 
Hotel  about  my  accident,  and  has  he  been  hero?"  she  in 
quired. 

"  fTord  was  sent  to  the  hotel,  but  they  said  Mr.  Gordon 
Carlisle  had  just  started  for  New  London,  Connecticut,  and 
they  couldn't  tell  when  he  would  return.  "We  sent  a  tele 
gram  there  but  received  no  answer,  and  we  think,  that  is, 
his  mother  and  father  think,  he  is  no  doubt  coming  home." 

44  Then  you  must  see  that  I  look  well,  Mrs.  Stuart,"  she 
said,  impatienly.  ' '  Put  on  my  lace  dressing-robe  with  the 
blue  satin  bows,  and  curl  the  short  locks  over  my  forehead, 
and  hand  me  the  powder-puff  and  a  hand  mirror.  I 
wouldn't  have  Gordon  see  me  looking  like  this  for  the 
whole  round  world.  What  is  the  matter  with  my  head  that 
you  have  it  bandaged  so?"  she  cried,  tearing  off  the  linen 
bands.  **  I  want  that  mirror,  hand  it  to  me.  I've  asked 
for  it  the  third  time.  You  don't  seem  to  understand  your 
position  here,  Mrs,  Stuart,"  cried  Dora,  testily. 


254  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

With  a  grim  smile  on  her  stolid  face  Mrs.  Stuart  obeyed 
this  time,  placing  the  glass  in  her  hand. 

One  glance  at  the  seamed,  disfigured  face  and  Dora 
Lancaster  threw  the  mirror  from  her  with  a  Urrible 
scream  of  rage. 

"  What  have  you  done  to  my  face?"  she  screamed.  "  It 
is  a  vile  conspiracy  against  me,  to  make  me  horrible  in 
Gordon's  eyes/'  she  cried,  springing  from  the  coach  and 
confronting  the  trembling  housekeeper;  but  the  pain  of  the 
wound  on  her  face  was  so  intense  she  almost  fainted  with 
the  exertion. 

In  an  instant  she  realized  it  all.  The  terrible  fate  she 
had  marked  out  for  Leonie  Locke — to  go  through  life  with 
a  horribly  scarred  face — had  overtaken  her,  and  the  very 
thought  of  it  worked  her  up  into  a  fierce  frenzy. 

"  What  does  Gordon's  mother  say?  Why  don't  she  comb 
to  me?"  she  demanded,  hoarsely. 

"  She  is  with  her  husband  in  the  library,  she  will  be  here 
soon,"  replied  Mrs.  Stuart  soothingly,  as  she  quitted  the 
room  with  the  fragments  of  the  hand-glass  gathered  up  in 
her  apron.  , 

When  Dora  Lancaster  was  left  alone,  she  crept  stealthily 
to  the  mirror  again,  and,  like  a  statue  carved  in  .marble, 
ehe  gazed  long  and  steadily  at  the  face  reflected  there;  no 
moan  or  cry  escaped  her  white  lips,  and  in  that  moment  as 
she  gazed,  all  the  good  in  her  heart  died,  and  she  was 
transformed  into  a  fiend  incarnate.  "He  will  hate  me 
now,"  she  thought;  "  all  hope  of  love  is  ended,  the  love  of 
a  life- time  blasted;  but  he  shall  never  marry  Leonie 
Locke.  I  vowed  that  once  before,  and  standing  here  be 
fore  this  glass>  I  renew  that  vow  with  a  deadly  vengeance." 

Mr.  Carlisle  had  always  wanted-his  son  Gordon  to  marry 
her;  what  would  he  say  now,  when  he  saw  her  horribly 
scarred  face — would  he  not  use  his  influence  against  her? 
Dora's  desperate  jealousy  had  cost  her  a  pitiful  price. 


LOCKE. 

"  Perhaps  at  this  very  moment  he  is  talking  it  crer  in 
the  library  with  his  wife/'  she  muttered  to  herself. 

Quick  as  thought,  Dora  caught  up  a  dark  robe,  and, 
throwing  it  hastily  over  the  one  she  wore,  glided  as  silently 
as  a  panther  to  the  library. 

The  door  was  slightly  ajar,  and  with  silent,  velvet-shod 
feet  Dora  crept  into  the  room,  gliding  behind  a  marble 
Flora  that  occupied  an  alcove,  which  commanded  a  full 
view  of  the  interior  of  the  room. 

John  Carlisle  sat  in  his  arm-chair  at  his  desk,  while  his 
wife  stood  before  the  fire  with  a  look  on  her  hard  proud 
face  that  was  terrible  to  behold,  in  its  freezing  hauteur. 
Dora  was  right,  they  were  speaking  of  her,  and  Mrs.  Car 
lisle  was  saying,  "  of  course  the  idea  we  have  been  enter 
taining  of  Gordon  making  Dora  his  wife,  is  at  an  'end  now. 
I  pity  her  misfortune  of  course,  but  1  could  never  consent 
to  introduce  such  a  horribly  scarred  creature  as  my  son's 
bride  into  society;  the  very  idea  is  shocking!" 

"  Gordon  must  marry  her,"  responded  John  Carlisle 
slowly,  with  a  strange  husky  tremulousness  in  his  voice. 
'*  There  are  more  reasons  than  one  why  this  must  be. " 

*'  I  shall  strongly  oppose  any  arrangement  of  the  kind, 
John,"  declared  Mrs.  Carlisle  emphatically.  "  Gordon  is 
our  only  son  and  will  one  day  inherit  all  we  have;  he  will 
bu  wealthy  enough  to  chose  whom  he  will. " 

' '  If  he  does  not  marry  her,  we  will  be  ruined,"  retorted 
Mr.  Carlisle,  rising  and  crossing  the  room  toward  where  his 
wife  sat.  He  leaned  his  arms  heavily  on  the  marble  man 
tel,  bowing  his  head  upon  them,  and  something  very  like  a 
groan  burst  from  .his  pallid  lips.  '*  The  time  has  come 
w.heu  1  must  unfold  a  cruel  secret  to  you,  Alecia,"  he  said, 
slowly.  "  I  never  thought  to  tell  you,  but  you  have  forced 
me  into  it,  You  can  leave  me,  if  you  will,  and  1  could  not 
blame  you  for  it;  for  a  wife  never  had  greater  cause  to 
part  from  a  husband.  I  deserve  no  mercy  and  I  ask  none, 
*il  my  sorrow  is  for  yoa  <fcy!  our  son  Gordon. " 


LBOHTE    LOGEK. 

"  Why,  what  do  yon  mean?"  cried  lira.  Carlisle  in  sur 
prise.  "  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand  you.  What  are  you 
making  such  a  mystery  of  this  affair  for?  I  do  not  under 
stand  what  this  has  to  do  with  the  subject  of  Gordon's 
marriage. " 

"  It  has  everything  to  do  with  it,  Alecia,"  returned  John 
Carlisle,  raising  his  white  face,  and  looking  down  at  her 
uneasily.  "  I  will  tell  you  why  he  must  marry  Dora  Lan 
caster.  She  was  an  heiress;  when  I  became  administrator 
of  her  estate,  I  drew  her  money,  and  used  it.  I  specu 
lated  with  it,  Alecia,  and  I  lost  every  dollar  of  it,  and  if  it 
were  once  known,  I  would  be  a  ruined  man.  Dora  will 
call  for  a  settlement  sooner  or  later,  and  then,  unless  Gor 
don  marries  her,  the  whole  affair  will  leak  out. " 

"  You  would  sell  your  only  son  for  gold/'  cried  Mrs. 
Carlisle,  with  bitter  scorn.  "  Have  you  forgotten  there  is 
an  honorable  way  out  of  this?  Pay  Dora  Lancaster  back 
her  money,  dollar  for  dollar,  out  of  our  own  estate;  it  is 
quite  ample  for  the  purpose.  Your  calculations  always 
turn  out  wrong  it  seems  to  me.  It  was  you  who  sent  that 
pretty  little  dark-eyed  Leonie  Locke  out  into  the  street 
that  winter  night,  and  it  turns  out  now  that  she  is  one  of 
the  wealthiest  heiresses  in  all  New  York." 

"  Stop!"  cried  John  Carlisle,  sinking  into  a  chair,  his 
face  ghastly,  and  his  eyes  almost  protruding  from  their 
sockets.  "  Don't  mention  that  name  in  this  house  unless 
you  want  to  kill  me.  1  have  suffered  enough  by  it." 

In  a  moment  Mrs.  Carlisle  had  sprung  to  her  feet 
*  What  is  this  girl  to  you?"  she  cried,  standing  flushed 
and  angry  before  him. 

"  You  may  as  well  know  all.  Years  ago  the  father  of 
Leonie  Locke  bought  this  house  and  everything  in  it, 
deeding  it  to  his  infant  child,  Leonie.  He  traveled  abroad 
for  years,  giving  out  that  he  was  poor.  Everything  was 
left  in  my  hands,  and  her  father  never  called  upon  me  for 
a  single  dollar.  He  wanted  to  be  considered  poor,  for  Jtt 


LEONIE    lAfeAlfc.  25? 


had  a  great  horror  that,  should  his  daughter's  wealth  be 
come  known,  she  would  he  besieged  by  fortune-hunters. 
The  money  accumulated  year  by  year,  and  at  last  I  con 
ceived  the  brilliant  idea  of  appropriating  it  to  my  own  use, 
Allan  Locke  died  suddenly  in  this  city  a  little  over  a  yea? 
ago.  He  was  supposed  to  be  a  poor  man.  I  had  a  fearful 
struggle  with  my  conscience,  but  love  for  gold  prevailed;  J 
could  not  give  up  the  luxury  of  a  life-time  to  this  girl,  and 
I  vowed  she  would  never  know.  I  hated  Leonie  Locke  be. 
cause  she  stood  between  the  son  I  worshiped  and  the  wealth 
and  luxury  he  had  always  considered  his. 

"The  girl's  face  has  haunted  me  like  a  shadow,  an* 
those  great  reproachful  dark  eyes  of  hers  almost  drove  m* 
mad.  I  am  a  poor  man,  Alecia,  poor  in  my  old  age,  so 
are  you — and — Gordon.  If  this  Leonie  Locke  only  knew 
how  matters  stood,  we  would  be  homeless  before  another 
night." 

"Let  me  tell  you  that  you  have  made  a  terrible  mis 
take,"  cried  Mrs.  Carlisle.  "When  you  knew  all  this, 
why  did  you  not  let  Gordon  marry  Leonie  Locke  when 
they  loved  each  other,  instead  of  turning  her  away  from 
this  house?" 

"  I  wish  to  Heaven  I  had!"  sighed  John  Carlisle.  "  But 
it  is  too  late  to  think  of  that  now,  the  girl  will  never  kno'jf 
of  this  for  long  years  after  I  am  dead  and  gone.  Keep  it 
a  dead  secret  in  yuuA*  breast,  Alecia,  for  if  Gordon  once 
mistrusted  this,  he  would  scorn  to  keep  it  a  single  mo 
ment  If  he  marry  Dora  Lancaster  there  will  be  no  in 
vestigations.  If  the  ball  were  once  started  it  would  neyet 
stop  until  the  whole  affair  were  unearthed,  and  that  would 
mean  poverty  and  ruin.  I  am  too  old  to  face  it;  I  can  see 
no  other  way  to  save  myself  than  gaining  Gordon's  conaaof 
to  many  Dora." 


858  LEONIE    LOOKS. 


CHAPTER  L. 

SWIFTLY  as  a  shadow  Dora  Lancaster  flitted  from  the 
library  and  gained  her  own  room  again,  closing  and  lock* 
ing  the  door  after  her. 

No  prayer  for  mercy  fell  from  her  lips;  she  knew  that 
the  vengeance  of  an  outraged  God  had  overtaken  her. 

She  had  parted  Gordon  Carlisle  from  Leonie,  and  it  had 
been  her  fertile  brain  that  had  concocted  the  diabolical  plot 
of  gaining  Leonie's  signature  to  the  spurious  marriage  cou' 
tract  with  Charlie  Hart. 

She  had  made  the  daring  attempt  to  blight  Leonie's  fair 
beauty;  and  now,  as  the  price  of  her  deadly  sin,  it  had 
recoiled  upon  her  own  guilty  head. 

Her  beauty  was  gone  forever,  and  with  it  her  wealth.  It 
was  the  darkest  hour  of  Dora  Lancaster's  life. 

At  that  moment  a  telegram,  which  Mrs.  Stuart  had  laid 
upon  the  table  during  her  absence,  caught  her  eye. 

"It  is  from  Gordon,"  she  muttered,  hastily  tearing 
open  the  envelope. 

It  was  not  from  Gordon;  it  was  from  Charlie  Hart 
dated  at  New  London,  Conn.,  and  ran  as  follows: 

"  Gordon  Carlisle  is  here:  so  is  Leonie  Locke.  I  can 
not  give  details  in  a  telegram.  Can  you  come  here  on  firsf 
train? 

"  To  make  matters  worse,  I  find  that  the  paper  Leonie 
signed  was  destroyed  by  fire  last  night.  Building  lost;  no 
papers  saved.  My  only  weapon  against  her  has  been  swept 
away.  Advise  me,  or  come  on. 

"CHARLIE  HART.'* 

A  hursh  laugh  broke  from  Dora's  lips.  "  Trouble  nev*» 
was  known  to  come  singly/'  she  muttered.  There  is  a 
fierce,  wild  fire  in  her  eyes,  and  her  brain  is  whirling  with 
excitement;  she  clinches  her  hand  over  the  telegram, 


LE03STE    LOCKJu  253 

catches  her  breath  with  a  spasm  of  pain.  Was  it  merely  » 
coincidence,  Gordon  Carlisle  and  Leonie  Locke  being  in 
New  London  at  the  same  time?  Had  they  not  met  and 
would  not  explanations  follow,  and  the  whole  truth  come  to 
light? 

"  I  will  go  to  New  London  by  the  first  tram!"  she  cried, 
tearing  the  telegram  into  shreds  and  tossing  them  into  the 
waste-basket  beside  her  writing-desk.  "  Gordon  Carlisle 
shall  never  marry  Leonie  Locke — I  swear  it!  I  will  kill 
her  first;  and  then — "  . 

She  did  not  finish  her  sentence,  but,  crossing  over  to  the 
dressing-case,  hastily  opened  r.  secret  drawer,  and  drew 
from  it  a  tiny  vial  and  swallowed  half  of  its  contents. 

Yes,  it  had  come  to  that.  When  she  needed  strength 
and  nerve  to  execute  the  daring  plans  she  had  plotted,  she 
had  recourse  to  stimulating  drugs. 

She  gave  the  bell  rope  a  violent  pull,  which  brought  Mrs- 
Stuart  hastily  to  the  door. 

"  I  am  going  to  take  a  little  journey,"  she  said,  turning 
her  strangely  brilliant  eyes  upon  the  bewildered  house* 
keeper.  "  I  am  going  on  the  first  train  to  New  London, 
and  I  want  you  to  go  with  me,  Mrs.  Stuart.  Let  no  one 
know;  no  one  will  miss  us,  and  we  will  '  0  doubt  retuna 
again  on  the  night  train." 

"  But  you  have  just  had  a  terrible  accident,  Miss  Dora/* 
cried  Mrs.  Stuart.  "  You  surely  would  not—" 

Dora  interrupted  her  with  an  imperious  wave  of  her 
jeweled  hand. 

**  I  will  do  as  I  please!"'  she  flashed  out.  "  Do  not  at' 
tempt  to  tell  me  what  I  must  or  must  not  do!" 

As  she  spoke,  her  back  was  turned  to  Mrs.  Stuart;  but, 
through  the  hanging  mirror  opposite,  she  could  see  her 
every  movement,  and  as  she  watched,  she  saw  Dora  hastily 
take  a  bright,  gleaming  dagger  from  the  drawer  and  thrust 
ft  into  her  bosom. 

For  a  moment  the  blood  almost  raa  cold  in  Mrs.  Stuart's 


£60  LEOfflE    LOCKE. 

veins.  What  could  it  mean — the  sight  that  she  had  just 
witnessed?  She  remembered  Gordon  Carlisle  was  at  New 
London,  Connecticut — just  the  place  Dora  was  going. 
"  She  does  not  mean  to  injure  him — she  loves  him  too  well 
for  that/'  thought  Mrs.  Stuart.  "  Perhaps  she  means  to 
make  away  with  herself."  She  made  up  her  mind  to 
JHumor  Dora;  when  she  was  off  her  guard  she  could  easily 
disarm  her. 

Dora  could  never  get  along  with  a  maid,  and  no  maid 
dbuld  get  along  with  Dora;  and  more  than  one  of  them 
told  strange  stories  of  her  ungovernable  temper,  and  since 
the  accident  Mrs.  Stuart  had  been  her  constant  attendant 

Dora  dressed  herself  for  her  journey  with  the  greatest 
care.  The  scarred  face  was  draped  in  lace,  which  kindly 
hid  it.  She  seemed  in  a  state  of  delirious  excitement:  her 
cheeks  were  flushed,  her  dry  lips  were  fever-red,  and  her 
eyes  shone  like  blue  flaming  stars,  with  a  wild  glittering 
light. 

The  effect  of  the  drug  was  becoming  more  visible  each 
moment  At  every  remark  Mrs.  Stuart  made,  Dora- 
laughed  a  wild,  eldritch  laugh,  though  there  was  little  to 
cause  mirth. 

As  Mrs.  Stuart  passes  the  waste-basket,  she  sees  the 
crumpled  telegram  in  it.  Perhaps  that  tells  the  story  of 
Dora's  strange  excitement.  Another  moment  and  she  has 
mastered  its  significant  contents,  and  the  whole  affair  i& 
mapped  out  clearly  before  her.  Now  she  understands  why 
Dora  is  making  this  secret  trip  to  New  London  in  aaswei 
to  Charlie  Hart's  telegram.  Leonie  Locke  is  there,  and 
so  is  Gordon  Carlisle. 

Mrs.  Stuart  thrust  the  telegram  into  her  pocket,  quite 
unobserved  by  Dora,  who  stood  gazing  intently  at  a  steel 
engraving  hanging  over  the  mantel.  It  was  the  picture  of 
Virginius,  copied  from  a  famous  master,  representing  the 
intensely  thrilling  scene  where  the  father  plunges  the 
dagger  into  the  pure  breast  of  Virginia,  as  he  clasps  her  in 


LEOXI1    LOCKS.  261 

his  arms  to  take  the  last  farewell — takes  her  pwre  yeuag 
life  rather  than  give  her  up  to  the  arms  of  his  enemy. 

Dora  draws  a  hard  breath;  Mrs,  Stuart  follows  her  gaze, 
and  she  reads  the  thought  that  is  flitting  through  Dora's 
mind,  as  her  white  jeweled  hands  clutch  nervously  at  the 
dagger  concealed  in  her  bosom. 

It  would  be  more  than  madness  to  attempt  to  reason 
with  Dora — Mrs.  Stuart  knows  her  too  well  for  that,  and 
she  does  not  attempt  it.  There  is  only  one  person  im  the 
whole  world  who  has  the  slightest  influence  over  Dora,  and 
chat  person  is  Gordon  Carlisle. 

"  I  will  tell  Gordon  all  about  it,  and  he  will  know  how 
to  act  in  this  matter,"  she  thought.  "If  I  were  to  tell 
Mr.  Carlisle  or  his  wife,  they  would  not  listen  to  me.  Gor 
don  will  know  best  what  to  do.  I  will  tell  him  of  her 
treachery — that  it  was  she  who  separated  him  from  Leonie 
Locke,  and  I  will  show  him  the  proof.  He  must  promise, 
though,  not  to  wreak  his  vengeance  on  my  graceless 
nephew. " 

How  little  she  knew  of  the  thrilling  event  that  was 
transpiring  at  that  very  moment  in  which  Charlie  Han 
was  the  principal  actor. 


CHAPTER  LL 

"  THEFT!"  the  word  seemed  shrieked  out  on  the  air  and 
t)orne  along  tauntingly  on  the  breeze,  to  Gordon's  aston 
ished  ears. 

"  I  am  sorry,  Mr.  Carlisle,"  said  the  detective,  gravely, 
"'  but  it  is  my  duty  to  place  you  under  arrest/' 

"  I  am  not  guilty,"  replied  Gordon,  proudly,  "  still,  I 
will  go  with  you/' 

Like  one  in  a  dream,  he  accompanied  the  detective  back 
co  the  city. 

The  morning  papers  were  full  of  lie  great  scandal  of  the 


LEOUTIE    LOCKE. 

day,  which  Gordon  Carlisle's  arrest  on  such  an  astounding 
charge  had  created. 

Owing  to  the  handsome  young  prisoner's  previous  high 
standing,  and,  as  all  supposed,  the  prospective  heir  to  the 
Carlisle  millions,  au  immediate  trial  was  granted  him. 

Th*  court-room  was  crowded  as  it  usually  is  in  such 
cases. 

Mrs.  Barrett  was  greatly  frightened  at  the  turn  affairs 
had  taken. 

"  Always  attend  to  your  own  affairs  in  future,  my  dear/' 
remarked  the  old  lawyer,  grimly,  when  she  came  to  him 
and  confessed  meddling  with  what  did  not  concern  her. 

"  I  can  not  believe  handsome  Gordon  Carlisle  took  those 
diamonds/'  she  sobbed.  "  I  do  not,  and  will  not  believe 
it  You  must  plead  his  case,  my  love,  and  clear  him,  for 
if — ii— anything  else  happened  I  could  never  forgive  my 
self." 

"  You  should  have  thought  of  that,  or  consulted  me, 
before  sending  for  detectives.  My  experience  has  been, 
that  when  you  once  engage  them  they  will  rake  up  a  tor 
nado  out  of  whole  cloth  to  get  up  a  sensation  that  they 
may  figure  in,  but  as  you  engaged  the  fellow  you  are  re 
sponsible,  and  if  a  criminal  libel  grows  out  of  this  affair  I 
won't  answer  for  you. " 

The  lawyer's  wife  was  thoroughly  alarmed  now,  she 
had  heard  so  much  of  the  terrible  penalty  which  was  im 
posed  upon  those  who  were  responsible  in  the  first  instance, 
for  a  criminal  libel.  Money  would  not  save  them  from  be 
hind  the  bars. 

"  If  people  will  play  with  fire,  they  must  not  complain 
if  they  get  their  fingers  burned.  I'll  go  to  court  and  see 
what  1  can  do  for  young  Carlisle/'  said  Lawyer  Barrett, 
putting  on  his  hat. 

He  was  glad  Leonie  was  not  in  the  city.  Her  presence 
there  could  not,  in  that  case,  be  insisted  upon. 

When  the  startlina  accusation  had  been  made  public, 


LBONTE    LOCKS.  263 

Aimee,  the  maid,  had  taken  sadden  leave,  although  no 
one  thought  of  connecting  her  with  the  affair,  save  the 
detective,  yet  he  kept  his  own  counsel  awaiting  the  devel 
opment  of  the  case. 

The  court  room  was  crowded  with  the  elite  of  New  York 
society.  Handsome  young  girls  pushing  eagerly  past  each 
other,  anxious  to  obtain  a  seat  where  they  could  have  the 
best  view  of  the  handsome  prisoner,  who  sat  beside  his  at 
torney  with  his  head  thrown  proudly  back. 

Gordon's  face  was  deathly  pale.  He  looked  so  honorable 
writh  the  fair  golden  beauty  of  King  Olaf  that  it  seemed  the 
most  cruel  of  farces  to  accuse  him  of  aught  that  was  igno 
ble.  He  admitted  having  the  conversation  with  Leonie  in 
the  conservatory,  and  that  they  had  parted  in  anger. 

By  the  time  the  opposing  attorney  had  summed  up  the. 
case  it  looked  hard,  and  the  black  ominous  clouds  of  cir 
cumstantial  evidence,  which  has  so  cruelly  blighted  more 
than  one  innocent  life,  rolled  darkly  over  the  head  of  our 
handsome  hero. 

The  case  had  come  to  a  close;  there  was  a  death-like 
hush  in  the  room  to  hear  the  decision  of  the  stern-faced 
judge. 

At  that  moment  there  was  a  bustle  of  excitement  toward 
the  door,  and  a  woman  pushed  eagerly  through  the  crowd 
toward  the  judge,  exclaiming: 

"  One  moment,  if  you  please,  your  honor,  I  have  a  state 
ment  to  make.  The  young  man  yonder  is  innocent.  I 
can  tell  you  who  stole  Leonie  Locke's  diamonds. " 

The  greatest  excitement  prevailed  in  the  room.  Young 
ladies  rose  in  their  seats  waving  their  handkerchiefs,  mur 
muring  their  approbation.  Gordon  Carlisle's  fair  face 
flushed,  and  he  bent  forward  eagerly  in  his  chair  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  woman's  face. 

She  had  removed  her  veil,  and  calmly  turned  toward  the 
vast  assemblage. 

And  Gordon  saw,  wj£h_intense  as^rushinent,  that  it  was 


264  EBOHIE    LOCK, 

Kate  Hardy,  oae  of  the  sewing-girls  who  had  once  been  IE 
his  employ. 

Her  face  was  white  and  set,  and  her  eyes  blazed  with  a 
strange  lurid  light. 

"  1  have  a  short  story  to  tell,  and  a  strange  one,  but  I 
beg  you  will  permit  me  to  tell  it  in  my  own  way,"  she 
said,  hesitatingly. 

The  judge  nodded  stiffly,  adding,  however,  that  she 
would  be  obliged  to  confine  herself  strictly  to  facts  bearing 
apon  the  diamond  case. 

"  I  was  once  in  Mr.  Gordon  Carlisle's  employ,"  Kate 
began,  slowly,  "  and  it  was  in  Mr.  Carlisle's  work-room  1 
first  met  his  foreman,  Charlie  Hart,  who  is  the  man  who 
stole  Leonie  Locke's  diamonds — " 

The  intense  breathless  stillness  of  the  room  remained  un 
broken,  and  she  continued,  slowly: 

"  I  loved  Charlie  more  than  words  could  tell,  and  mat 
ters  ran  on  smoothly  enough  until  one  winter  morning,  in 
response  to  an  advertisement  which  had  appeared  in  the 
morning  papers,  a  young  girl  applied  to  the  firm  for  work. 
The  moment  my  eyes  rested  upon  her  a  demon  of  jealousy 
sprung  into  my  heart,  for  she  was  as  beautiful  as  a  dream. 
The  exquisite  high-bred  dainty  face  was  as  perfect  as  a 
picture,  framed  in  clustering  brown  curls,  that  fell  in  soft, 
clinging  childish  love-locks  over  her  white  brow.  The 
dark-blue  merino  dress  fitted  her  lithe  graceful  figure  to 
perfection,  and  her  name  was  so  picturesque,  it  sounded 
like  a  poem:  it  was  Leonie  Locke." 

A  suppressed  murmur  ran  through  the  room — but  Kate 
continued,  slowly:  "  When  I  raised  my  eyes  to  her  face  I 
hated  her  lest  she  should,  through  her  great  beauty,  find 
favor  in  my  lover's  eyes. 

"  It  came  about  as  I  had  predicted  in  my  own  heart: 
Charlie  Hart  fell  desperately  in  love  with  her  at  first  sight, 
and  he  annoyed  her  so  much  with  his  attention  that  the 
girl  left. 


..... 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  265 

"  From  that  time  on  Charlie's  heart  grew  cold  toward 
me,  and  I  knew  but  too  well  that  he  was  thinking  of  Le<- 
onie  Locke.  Oar  wedding-day  had  been  fixed  before  she 
crossed  his  path,  but  after  that,  he  put  it  off  from  time  to 
time — I  knew  why;  ah!  I  knew  why — he  could  not  forget 
the  flower-like  face  of  Leonie  Locke. 

"  About  that  time  Charlie  was  discharged  from  Mr. 
Carlisle's  employ,  and  he  vowed  a  terrible  vengeance  upon 
the  young  man  sitting  in  the  prisoner's  box;  and  hi  a 
thoughtless  moment  he  told  me  he  could  strike  at  Gordon 
Carlisle's  heart  through  his  love  for  pretty  Leonie  Locke. " 

All  the  young  girls  in  the  room,  with  one  accord,  pressed 
eagerly  forward  in  anticipation  of  a  romantic  love  story: 
and  their  interest  in  the  handsome  young  man  increased 
each  moment,  so  great  was  their  sympathy. 

A  momentary  silence  ensued,  then  Kate  Hardy  went  on 
slowly:  "  As  time  wore  on,  Charlie  Hart  told  me  he  had 
lost  all  trace  of  Leonie  Locke;  but  I  did  not  believe  him. 
I  followed  him  silently  around,  like  a  veritable  shadow,  and 
I  found  him  always  doggiog  the  footsteps  of  Miss  Locke. 

"  I  own  an  old  stone  house  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson, 
where  I  lived  up  to  the  night  of  the  Lexington  Avenue 
ball,  and  on  that  night  Charlie  Hart  came  to  my  home 
with  Leonie  Locke,  who  was  in  a  dead  swoon  in  his  arms. 
He  said  that  he  had  gained  an  entrance  into  the  building 
by  scaling  the  ladder  of  trellis- work,  and  entering  a  boudoii 
through  a  window  which  had  been  carelessly  left  open. 

4 '  As  he  was  bending  over  a  jewel-case,  he  was  surprised 
by  the  entrance  of  a  woman,  whose  shrieks  rang  through 
the  house;  and,  in  endeavoring  to  silence  her,  the  mask 
which  he  wore  was  torn  from  his  face,  and  recognition  fol 
lowed;  it  was  Leonie  Locke,  and  she  had  recognized  himr 
and  fainted  at  his  feet. 

"  He  dared  not  leave  her  there  to  give  to  the  world  the 
startling  information,  and  hastily  cramming  the  jewels  into 
hia  pocket,  he  raised_j^  >adr]  in  his  arms  and  bore  her 


266  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

hastily  from  the  house,  bringing  her  to  my  home  on  the 
banks  of  the  Hudson.  Here  are  the  diamonds/'  she  added, 
ponring  them  on  the  table  beside  her  like  a  shower  of  fire — 
only  one  is  missing — I  disposed  of  that  one  myself;  I  care 
not  what  you  do  with  me  for  it,  I  have  made  amends  by 
saving  the  honor  of  Gordon  Carlisle. " 


CHAPTER  LIL 

"  You  will  wonder  why  1  have  revealed  this  dangerous 
secret,"  continued  Kate  Hardy — "the  secret  which  will 
confine  my  lover  in  a  felon's  celL  Let  me  tell  you  why. 
I  found  out  that  he  was  false  to  his  vows  to  me:  he  loved 
Leonie  Locke,  and  had  made  up  his  mind  to  fly  from  this 
country,  and  carry  Leonie  with  him  by  force.  1  overheard 
the  plan,  and  it  changed  me  from  a  loving  woman  into  a 
fiend  incarnate.  This  is  my  revenge.  Let  it  be  a  warning 
to  all  men  never  to  trample  into  the  dust  a  true,  devoted 
heart,  or  fling  it  from  them  for  a  younger,  prettier  love. " 

As  the  last  word  trembled  upon  her  lips  she  swayed 
slightly  forward,  sinking  down  at  Gordon  Carlisle's  feet. 

Those  were  the  last  words  Kate  Hardy  ever  uttered. 
She  stood  before  a  higher  Judge  than  those  of  earth  to  an 
swer  for  her  sins. 

The  presence  of  the  diamonds  was  proof  positive  that 
Kate  Hardy  had  spoken  the  truth. 

Hundreds  of  friends  who  had  proclaimed  Gordon's  in 
nocence  from  the  very  first  crowded  around  him,  eager  to 
offer  their  congratulations  and  express  their  indignation  at 
the  false  accusation. 

No  one  could  imagine  why  he  took  the  matter  so  calmly. 
A  moment  later  he  had  entered  a  coach  in  waiting,  and 
was  driven  back  to  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel. 

"  1  must  take  the  first  train  back  to  New  London/'  he 
thought,  as  he  paced  thon<rhtf  ally  up  and  down  his  apart 
ment.  "  If  I  do  noU.tiiau  imaei-abie  fellow  will  think  I  fled 


LEOISOB    LOCKE.  5567 

from  the  contemplated  satisfaction  he  demanded  through 
fear — that  is,  if  he  has  not  heard  of  the  misfortune  which 
afflicted  me. " 

Already  the  detectives  were  scouring  the  country  in 
search  of  Charlie  Hart.  One  word  from  Gordon  Carlisle 
would  have  put  them  on  the  right  track;  but  he  would  not 
speak  that  word — for  Leonie's  sake.  He  was  too  noble  te 
avail  himself  of  the  glorious  revenge  that  was  within  his 
reach. 

The  train  puffed  slowly  into  the  New  London  depot,  and 
Gordon  Carlisle  alighted,  making  his  way  toward  the  hotel, 
little  dreaming  of  the  strange  scenes  being  enacted  there. 


We  must  now  return,  dear  reader,  to  Leonie,  whom 
Charlie  Hart  had  conveyed  to  the  hotel  while  she  was  still 
in  the  deep  swoon  into  which  she  had  fallen. 

The  next  few  days  that  followed  (during  the  time  that 
Gordon  Carlisle  was  in  the  crowded  court-room),  Leonie 
lay  tossing  upon  her  pillow,  in  the  ravages  of  delirium. 

It  was  the  most  pitiful  sight  that  the  good  landlady  and 
her  two  young  daughters,  who  were  constant  attendants  at 
her  bedside,  ever  beheld,  to  see  the  little  white  hands 
stretched  out  imploringly,  while  the  startled  cry  was  ever 
on  her  fevered  lips:  "  Oh,  Gordon,  my  love,  do  not  for 
sake  me !  Life  is  so  bitter  and  so  cold !  I  meant  no  wrong 
— fate  has  conspired  against  me!1" 

Charlie  Hart  was  not  admitted  into  the  room,  for  it  was 
quite  noticeable  that  Leonie  grew  more  violent  when  even 
his  name  was  mentioned,  and  she  would  cling  to  their 
hands  like  a  frightened  child,  piteously  begging  them  to 
save  her  from  him. 

Charlie  Hart,  cowardly  villain  though  he  was,  knew  bet 
ter  than  to  openly  claim  Leonie  Locke  as  his  wife;  for  he 
had  nothing  whatever  to  substantiate  such  a  claim.  The 
weapon  he  had  heiirtPvar  her-head-tfas,  as  he  had  tele* 


LEONIE    LOCKE. 

graphed  Dora,  lost  in  the  New  York  fire  of  a  few  days  pre. 
vious. 

His  plan  now  was  to  take  Leonie  to  Boston,  just  as  soon 
AS  she  was  able  to  be  removed,  and  from  thence  take  the 
first  outgoing  steamer  for  Liverpool. 

He  had  not  gone  down  to  the  fork  of  the  roads  again, 
for  the  satisfaction  he  had  demanded  of  Gordon  Carlisle, 
and  he  supposed,  as  he  did  not  return  to  the  hotel,  he  had 
in  all  probability  returned  to  New  York.  He  knew  noth 
ing  of  the  arrest  which  had  been  made,  or  of  the  sensa 
tional  trial  in  the  New  York  court,  from  the  fact  that  he 
was  no  reader  of  newspapers;  they  held  no  interest  for 
him. 

He  was  in  blissful  ignorance  of  the  terrible  vengeance 
which  was  so  soon  to  be  visited  upon  his  wicked  head  by 
on  outraged  God. 

He  had  given  out  at  the  hotel  that  Leonie  was  his  sister, 
whom  he  was  about  to  take  to  Europe  for  her  health,  but 
owing  to  her  indisposition,  had  concluded  to  stop  over 
here. 

He  had  also  ingeniously  added:  "  He  did  not  think  it 
worth  while  to  alarm  their  relatives,  as  Leonie  often  had 
similar  attacks  which  usually  lasted  but  a  day  or  so. " 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  what  1  think?"  said  one  of  the  land 
lady's  daughters  to  her  sister,  as  they  bent  sympathizingly 
over  Leonie's  pillow,  and  gently  smoothed  back  the  soft 
brown  curls  from  her  white  brow.  "  Why,  I  think  that 
cruel  brother  who  is  here  with  this  lovely  dark-eyed  little 
creature  has  taken  her  away  from  home  to  separate  her 
from  some  lover.  Don't  you  see  how  she  begs  of  some  one 
by  the  name  of  Gordon  to  take  her  in  his  arms  and  fly 
with  her  where  no  one  will  ever  find  them?" 

The  other  sister  nodded,  and  they  turned  away  their 
heads,  and  brushed  away  the  tear-drops  from  their  eyes,  as 
Leonie  turned  her  wondrous  dark  eyes  slowly  upon  them, 
each  one  in  turn  to  brinff  Gordon  back  to  her,  fot 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  269 

she  loved  him,  oh,  so  dearly!  And  the  pathos  in  her  Toioe 
would  have  melted  hearts  of  stone.  Both  of  the  girls  were 
young  and  had  lovers  of  their  own,  and  they  could  sym 
pathize  with  the  lovely  chfldish  Ftranger,  who  so  pathetic 
ally  pleaded  with  them  to  bring  her  lover  back,  for  life 
without  him  would  be  intolerable  to  ^ier. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I  have  a  mind  to  do,"  said  Jenny, 
the  younger  of  the  two  sisters.  "  I  will  try  to  help  her., 
1  will  go  to  that  dark-browed  brother  of  hers  and  see  what 
can  be  done." 

"  He  will  not  thank  you  to  meddle  with  his  affairs,"  re 
turned  the  elder  sister  in  affright.  ' '  He  looks  like  a  young 
man  of  violent  temper.  You  had  better  leave  this  matter 
alone.  You  do  not  know  his  reasons  for  not  giving  his  sis 
ter  to  this  Gordon,  whom  she  worships  so.  You  know 
what  Tricotrin  says  about  many  women  who  have  es' 
caped  horrible  fates.  They  often  think  they  have  lost 
Heaven,  until  the  blindness  of  love's  first  glamour  wears 
off,  and  they  see,  with  horror,  the  yawning  chasm  upon 
the  edge  of  which  their  feet  had  betn." 

"  I  shall  make  the  attempt  all  the  same,"  replied  the 
younger  sister,  determinedly.  "  I  am  always  so  sorry  for 
lovers  who  have  been  separated,  and  I  always  wish  some 
thing  would  happen  to  bring  them  together  again;"  and 
wiping  her  sympathetic  blue  eyes,  dauntless  little  Jenny 
went  forth  on  her  fruitless  mission. 

Charlie  Hart  listened  to  the  brave  little  pleader,  his 
anger  growing  each  moment  more  intense  as  she  told  him, 
with  trembling  voice,  how  dearly  the  young  girl  loved  this 
Gordon,  whose  name  was  ever  upon  her  lips,  and  how  she 
would  beg  of  this  Gordon  to  take  her  in  his  arms  and  fly 
with  her,  far  away  from  her  persecutor. 

Jenny  saw  that  the  more  she  pleaded  the  angrier  the 
young  man  grew. 

"  You  are  hard-hearted  and  cruel,"  she  said,  indignant 
ly,  her  blue  eyes  ^flaahii»«r*  i*il  You.  have  never  loved  any 


£70  LEQNIE    LOCKE. 

one  yourself,  or  JOTSL  would  have  some  pity  on  that  poor 
little  creature  who  is  pining  her  sweet  young  life  away  be 
cause  you  have  separated  her  from  the  man  she  loves. " 

"  I  can  not  imagine,  madame,  what  interest  you  can 
have  in  this  affair;"  and  he  added,  with  freezing  polite' 
ness:  "  I  am  sorry  to  disoblige  a  lady,  but  really  I  can  not 
comply  with  your  request  for  particular  reasons  I  do  not 
choose  to  make  known." 

He  turned  then  to  the  letter  he  had  been  reading,  and 
Jenny  knew  it  was  useless  to  argue  longer,  and  with  a  nod 
fully  as  stiff  and  freezing  as  his  own  she  swept  from  the 
loom,  leaving  Charlie  Hart  alone  with  his  own  guilty,  ac 
cusing  conscience. 

"  It  might  be  as  well  to  drop  a  line  to  Kate  Hardy,"  he> 
soliloquized  f  "  I  do  not  know  what  to  make  of  her  strange 
silence.  A  strange  presentiment  is  stealing  over  me  of 
coming  evil,  but,  pshaw!  1  have  lived  a  rollicking  bohem- 
ian  life,  fearing  neither  God  nor  man,  like  Richard  the 
Third.  Why  need  I  fear?  *  My  fortune  smiles  and  gives 
me  all  that  I  dare  ask.'  Ah,  what  is  that?"  he  muttered. 

It  was  a  low,  cautious  rap  at  the  door  of  his  apartments. 

CHAPTEK  LHI. 

CHARLIE  HART  gave  a  quick  start,  hesitated  a  moment, 
and  then  crossed  over  and  flung  open  the  door. 

A  servant  stood  without,  announcing  that  Leonie,  al 
though  very  weak,  was  down  in  the  parlor,  and  would  see 
him  a  few  moments. 

"  Very  well,  say  that  I  will  be  down  directly."  The 
servant  withdrew  and  Charlie  Hart  hastily  turned  the  key 
in  the  door.  His  dark  face  was  flushed  with  triumph,  and 
his  eyes  glowed  maliciously. 

"  She  has  sent  for  me  at  last,"  he  muttered.  "  I  will 
return  her  diamonds  to  her;  when  she  finds  I  have  not  at 
tempted  to  dispose,  of  them.  Amau  soften  her  heart  a  little 


LEONIE    LOCKi,.  271 

toward  mo.**  Strange  to  say,  since  the  night  he  had  taken 
Leonie  so  unceremoniously  to  the  lonely  stone  house  on  the 
banks  of  the  Hudson,  he  had  not  even  opened  the  case  into 
which  he  had  thrust  the  diamonds,  putting  it  carefully 
away  in  a  secret  pocket  of  his  satchel. 

He  took  out  the  case  and  pressed  the  spring,  and  the  lid 
flew  open,  but  the  diamonds  he  had  placed  so  carefully  on 
the  crimson  plush  bed,  were  missing. 

Cold  drops  of  perspiration  broke  out  on  his  forehead, 
and  the  case  dropped  from  his  nerveless  fingers  to  the4 
floor  with  a  crash.  "  Gone!"  he  gasped,  sinking  into  a 
chair;  "  gone,  and  no  one  knew  that  I  had  them,  except 
Kate  Hardy;  she  has  tricked  me,  she  has  stolen  them.  It 
was  she  who  started  that  fire  to  deceive  me/'  he  muttered. 
He  had  never  clearly  understood  how  Leonie  had  made  her 
escape  from  the  old  stone  house.  "N"ow  he  believed  Kate 
Hardy  had  aided  her,  and  then  destroyed  the  house,  to  lead 
him  to  the  impression  Leonie  had  died  among  the  ruins. 

Kate  had  outwitted  him!  how  the  thought  maddened 
him.  He  picked  up  the  case  and  tossed  it  back  into  his 
satchel. 

"  There's  no  use  sighing  over  the  inevitable/'  he  mut 
tered,  and  without  bestowing  another  thought  to  the  lost 
gems,  he  crossed  over  to  the  mirror,  and  giving  his  mus 
tache  an  extra  twirl,  and  running  his  white  fingers  through 
his  dark  curls,  he  walked  hastily  down  to  the  parlor,  where 
Leonie  awaited  him. 

The  golden  sun  had  set  in  the  western  sky,  and  the  dark 
shadow  of  night  was  silently  drawing  its  sable  curtains 
around  the  earth,  as  Charlie  Hart  walked  quickly  down  to 
the  parlor,  where  Leonie  reclined  among  the  cushions  of 
the  sofa,  trying  to  nerve  herself  for  the  coming  interview. 
At  that  self-same  moment,  Gordon  Carlisle  was  walking 
slowly  up  the  broad  street  of  the  town  toward  the  hotel. 

A  carriage  dashed  past  him.  "  Was  it  only  fancy,  or 
was  it  Dora  Lancaster's,  .white  faee^lying  back  among  the 


272  LEOWIT5    LOCKS. 

cushions?''  ke  asked  himself.  "  No,  no,  it  Host  have  been 
only  kis  imagination;  what  could  Dora  be  doing  there?5' 

Leonie  half  arose  as  Charlie  Hart  appeared  in  the  door' 
way,  then  sunk  back  upon  the  sofa  again.  "  I  have  come 
at  your  bidding,  Leonie/'  he  said,  crossing  the  room,  and 
taking  a  seat  near  the  sofa — quite  as  near  as  he  dared — 
and  dropping  his  voice  to  a  low  key,  that  he  intended 
should  be  very  winning. 

A  servant  came  in  to  light  the  gas,  but  he  waved  him 
back.  '*  I  should  much  prefer  the  soft  glow  of  the  fire 
light/'  he  said,  imperatively;  and  the  servant  withdrew, 
leaving  him  alone  with  the  girl  he  had  so  cruelly  wronged. 

'* 1  have  sent  for  you  to  plead  with  you,  Mr.  Hart.  I 
have  a  proposition  to  make  to  you. "  She  slid  from  the. 
sofa,  and  knelt  down  at  his  feet,  clasping  her  hands  sup' 
plicatingly  over  her  throbbing  heart,  and  raising  her  lovely 
dark  eyes  to  his  face. 

"  Tell  me/'  he  said,  "  what  is  it  that  you  wish?" 

"  Oh,  I  want  you  to  go  away,  only  to  go  away,  and  leave 
me  here  to  be  happy  with  the  one  I  love.  1  am  rich;  I 
mil  make  it  worth  your  while;  every  dollar  I  have  in  the 
world  I  will  make  over  to  you,  if  you  will  only  go  away.'; 

"  You  can  not  tempt  me  with  such  a  pretty  bribe, 
Leonie.  It  is  you  I  love,  and  not  your  gold/'  he  said, 
slowly. 

"  Where  men  love  they  are  merciful  and  sacrificing," 
she  sobbed,  raising  her  lovely,  despairing,  colorless  face. 
"  And  I  ask  you  by  the  love  you  say  you  bear  me  to  let  me 
go  free.  If  you  goad  me  to  death,  God  will  make  yon  an 
swerable  for  the  crime." 

"  It  is  my  love  that  urges  me  on  to  let  nothing  take  you 
from  me/'  was  the  grim  reply.  "  You  do  not  seem  to  un 
derstand,  Leonie,  the  depths  of  a  love  like  mine.  I  have 
surmounted  almost  insurmountable  barriers  to  claim  you; 
and  you  ask  me  to  give  you  up  now,  Leonie,  and  I  answer 
you  that  I  will  never  do  it.  I  had  rather  see  you  lying 


LEONIE    LOCKE.  27$ 

dead  at  my  feet  than  help  you  to  happiness  with  Gordon 
Carlisle.  Ah,  no!  1  shall  never  let  you  go  free,  Leonie. 
You  shall  be  mine— the  fates  have  so  decreed  it." 

He  looked  down  at  her  with  darkly  threatening  eyes,  and 
she  knew  her  prayer  had  been  in  vain.  He  was  as  pitiless 
as  a  man  of  marble.  She  knew  the  shadow  of  his  hateful 
presence  would  never  be  lifted  from  her  life.  All  love  and 
happiness  had  ended  for  her.  Darkness  and  misery  lay  be 
fore  her,  and  she  turned  from  him  with  a  piteous  moan, 
that  must  have  been  heard  and  wept  over  by  the  listening 
angels,  for  a  bitter  despair  more  cruel  than  death  itself  was 
closing  around  her  desolate  young  life,  and  again  she  sunk 
heavily  to  the  floor  with  her  little  hands  clinched  tightly 
over  her  breast,  her  white  face  wet  with  tears  wrung  from 
her  anguished  heart. 

"  How  much  a  man  will  dare  for  the  love  of  a  beautiful 
girl,"  he  mused,  kneeling  down  on  a  hassock  beside  the 
sofa,  and  gazing  passionately  down  at  the  still,  white  face. 

They  were  alone  together  for  the  first  time,  and  in  the 
dead  faint  which  locked  her  senses,  she  could  not  resist  the 
fervent  kisses  he  pressed  on  her  cold  lips. 

44  Leonie,  how  dearly  1  love  you!  You  are  mine,  Leonie/* 
he  mused  aloud,  in  a  low,  husky  voice.  "  I  must  take  you 
far  away  from  here,  lest  you  should  ever  find  out  that  the 
paper  you  signed  was  burned,  and  I  have  no  proof  to  es 
tablish  my  claim  upon  you. "  Leonie's  eyes  had  slowly 
opened,  and  she  had  heard  every  word  that  had  fallen  from 
his  lips.  An  icy  band  seemed  tightening  about  her  heart, 
which  seemed  to  almost  cease  beating,  but  ere  she  could 
free  herself  from  his  clasp,  the  folding-doors  were  slowly 
opened  by  the  white  jeweled  hand  of  a  woman. 

It  was  Dora;  she  had  heard  low,  subdued  voices,  and 
had  entered  the  room  as  noiselessly  as  a  shadow.  For  a 
moment  she  held  her  breath  and  listened  intently,  and  she 
heard  the  low  murmured  words:  "  Leonie,  I  love  yoiv 
sweet  one,  more  than  words  can  teii. " 


274  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

The  words  fired  her  brain  to  madness;  she  thought  the} 
nad  been  uttered  by  Gordon  Carlisle. 

Charlie  Hart  was  bending  over  the  still  form  of  Leonie, 
nis  back  turned  toward  the  silent  figure  in  the  door-way. 

The  gas-jet  was  burning  dimly,  yet  Dora  could  distin 
guish  her  rival's  face  lying  outlined  against  the  crimson 
satin  pillows  of  the  sofa. 

Like  an  avenging  spirit,  Dora  stealthily  circled  the  room, 
keeping  well  in  the  dense  shadow,  until  she  had  gained  the 
eofa  upon  which  Leonie  lay. 

There  was  a  low,  fiendish  cry  of  intense  rage,  and  the 
gleam  of  a  dagger  in  the  dim,  uncertain  light,  a  piteous 
cry  of  horror,  and  Dora  Lancaster  had  'done  her  terrible 
work. 


CHAPTEE  LIV. 

THE  cry  was  repeated,  and  Charlie  Hart  staggered  back 
Irom  the  sofa,  with  the  dagger  that  had  been  intended  for 
Jjeonie's  heart  buried  in  his  own  breast. 

He  had  glanced  hurriedly  up,  and  saw  Dora  Lancaster, 
with  the  weapon  in  her  jeweled  hand,  bending  over  Leonie 
to  strike  the  fatal  blow.  He  saw  and  read  the  dread  pur 
pose  in  her  glittering  eyes  at  a  single  glance;  and  in  that 
one  instant  he  atoned  for  all  the  cruelty  he  had  ever  shown 
Leonie. 

He  stretched  out  his  hand  to  stay  the  fearful  blow,  but 
he  missed  it,  and  swift  as  thought  he  thrust  Leonie  from 
the  sofa,  and  received  the  full  force  of  the  weapon  in  his 
own  breast. 

There  was  a  terrible  cry  of  baffled  rage  from  Dora  Lan 
caster's  lips — a  cry  that  rang  out  on  the  still  night  air, 
bringing  the  startled  inmates  of  that  quiet  hostelry  flock 
ing  to  the  parlor  from  all  directions — and  among  them 
Mrs.  Stuart,  the  housekeeper,  whose  vigilance  Dora  had 
cunningly  succeeded  .*i  eluding  but  a  few  moments  before, 


LEOXIE    LOCKE.  275 

With  ihe  desperate  force  of  a  dying  man  Charlie  Hart 
clung  tenaciously  to  Dora's  hand,  lest  she  should  break 
away  from  him  and  renew  her  attack  upon  her  beautiful 
rival. 

In  the  turmoil  Leonie  had  relapsed  again  into  a  dead 
faint;  and  kind  hands  bore  her  from  the  room  and  into  a 
quiet  parlor  in  another  part  of  the  house. 

"  Let  me  go!"  cried  Dora,  frantically  struggling  to 
make  her  way  through  the  throng  toward  the  open  door; 
but  all  exit  from  that  terrible  scene  was  cut  off  by  strong, 
stalwart  forms.  She  was  hemmed  in;  there  was  no  es 
cape. 

In  the  struggle  the  lace  drapery  had  been  torn  from  ier 
face,  and  she  stood  before  them  a  horrible,  scarred  creat 
ure,  from  whom  women  shrunk  in  terror,  and  even  men 
recoiled. 

She  turned  around  and  faced  the  startled  group,  glanc 
ing  calmly  at  those  who  were  bending  over  Charlie  Hart. 

"I  did  not  mean  to  kill  him/9  she  said.  *'  It  was  a 
terrible  mistake— a  fearful  mistake.  I  meant  to  frighten 
Leonie  Locke.  I  ask  no  pity,  no  mercy.  I  hated  her;  she 
was  my  rival.  It  is  but  a  story  of  woman's  love,  jealousy, 
and  revenge  told  over  again.  I  loved  Gordon  Carlisle,  and 
when  I  came  into  this  room  to-night  I  mistook  this  man, 
Charlie  Hart,  for  Gordon  Carlisle.  When  I  saw  him  bend 
ing  over  the  sofa  upon  which  Leonie  Locke  reclined,  and 
heard  him  murmur  tender,  loving  words,  it  maddened  me, 
for  I  thought  it  was  Gordon.  1 — I — meant  to  frighten 
the  girl  into  giving  him  up.  I  struck  at  her,  intending 
only  to  mar  the  fatal  beauty  that  had  won  Gordon  from 
me." 

"  She  must  be  taken  care  of  to  await  the  man's  in 
juries/'  one  whispered  to  another,  and  half  fainting  with 
her  desperate  struggles  to  free  herself  from  their  strong 
clasp,  Dora  was  removed  to  anathOT  apartment,  while  font 


476  LEOHIE    LOCKS. 

attendant  were  detailed  to  carefully  watch  her  eyery  move, 
ment,  lest  she  should  attempt  self-destruction. 

In  the  parlor  the  poor  old,  white-haired  Mrs.  Stuart 
knelt  beside  the  sofa  on  which  Charlie  Hart  lay,  a  pitiful 
spectacle  of  a  misspent,  reckless  life. 

A  doctor,  who  had  been  hastily  summoned,  had  told  him 
the  truth.  His  moments  were  numbered— each  breath 
might  be  his  last. 

4 'Send  for  Gordon  Carlisle/' he  whispered.  "I  have 
something  to  say  to  him;  I  could  not  rest  in  my  grave  with 
the  words  unspoken. " 

Gordon  Carlisle  had  at  that  very  moment  arrived  at  the 
hotel  Silently  they  conducted  him  to  the  parlor  in  which 
Charlie  Hart  lay,  with  the  physician  on  one  side  of  him, 
and  his  heart-broken  aunt  on  the  other.  He  motioned 
Gordon  to  a  seat,  and  with  his  dark,  restless  eyes  on  the 
face  of  the  noble  young  man  he  had  so  foully  wronged,  he 
confessed  to  him  the  whole  cruel  story  from  beginning  to 
end,  all  that  the  reader  already  knows. 

He  made  no  attempt  to  shield  himself;  he  gave  him 
every  detail  faithfully,  from  the  time  he  had  first  beheld 
Leonie  Locke  on  the  Fulton  Ferry  boat  that  stormy  De 
cember  morning,  and  had  fallen  in  love  with  her  shy, 
sweet,  dimpled  face,  up  to  the  time  he  had  decoyed  her  by 
the  anonymous  note  among  the  roses  to  the  masquerade 
ball,  and  had  gained  her  signature  to  the  chemically  pre 
pared  paper  which  she  had  innocently  believed  to  be  a 
•heet  of  plain  white  paper,  and  her  name  was  to  head  a 
subscription  list  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor. 

He  described  the  poor  girl's  terror  when  he  held  the 
paper  over  the  heat  of  the  gas,  and  the  words  which  had 
been  written  in  white  ink  turned  black,  and  stood  out 
boldly  before  her,  a  contract  of  marriage;  and  of  how  he 
had  held  her  to  tkat  spurious  contract,  which  had  been  the 
work  of  Dora  Lancaster's  scheming  brain,  finishing  up  with 
the  sequel  of  the  cruel  atteinot  upon  Leonie's  life,  that  the 


LBOKIE    LOCKE.  277 

foyers  might  be  effectually  separated;  and  how  he  had  re' 
ceired  the  thrust  upon  his  own  breast  to  save  Leonie, 
And  in  that  last  act  he  knew  he  had  atoned  for  the  past 

"Tell  Leonie  all,"  whispered  Charlie  Hart,  "and  ask 
her  to  forgive  me. "  Mrs.  Stuart  went  in  search  of  Leonie, 
sobbing  as  though  her  poor  old  heart  would  break. 
"  Heaven  will  surely  pardon  my  poor,  wayward  nephew," 
she  sobbed,  "  he  loved  her  so!  Ah,  me!  what  a  dangerous 
thing  lore  is,"  and  with  a  heavy  heart  she  entered  Leonie's 
apartment.  A  startling  surprise  awaited  her — Ltonie  was 
not  there. 

In  a  moment  the  most  intense  excitement  prevailed;  no 
one  had  seen  her  leave  the  house,  yet  she  was  nowhere  to 
be  found;  the  mystery  deepened. 

Every  room  was  carefully  searched,  but  no  Leonie  could 
be  found.  At  last,  some  one  suggested  searching  the  room 
in  which  Dora  Lancaster  had  been  confined. 

They  opened  the  door  cautiously,  fearful  lest  Dora 
should  spring  past  them  into  the  corridor,  and  then,  a 
sight  met  their  gaze  which  none  of  them  ever  forgot  te 
their  dying  day. 

The  attendants  who  had  been  detailed  to  watch  over 
Dora,  stood  around  her  weeping;  it  had  been  a  pitiful 
scene  which  had  wrung  such  tears  as  these  from  the  eyes 
of  stalwart  men,  used  only  to  the  hard  side  of  life. 

Leonie  Locke  was  there,  and  Dora  was  lying  on  the 
white-draped  bed,  with  her  poor  scarred  face  resting 
against  Leonie 's  breast. 

In  after  years  Leonie  told  how  it  happened:  she  had 
wandered  from  the  room  in  which  they  had  placed  her,  aad 
by  mistake  entered  Dora's.  The  terrible  excitement  had 
been  too  much  for  Dora;  she  lay  upon  the  bed,  pale, 
wretched,  dying.  A  terrible  cry  broke  from  her  white  lips 
as  her  eyes  encountered  Leonie  standing  tremblingly  in 
the  door-way. 

"  She    baa     come  to  taunt  me  with  my  crime,"  she 


273  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

moaned.  "  Ob!  be  merciful,  Leonie  Locke,  for  I  am 
dying!" 

Leonie  crossed  swiftly  over  to  the  bed,  where  Dora  lay; 
she  saw  it  was  but  too  true;  the  white  agony  of  death  was 
ever  the  poor  scarred  face,  and  glazed  wandering  eyes. 

Dora  shrunk  from  her  with  a  low  moan,  and  cowered 
among  the  snowy  pillows. 

Leonie  took  the  poor  feverish  hands  in  her  cool  palms, 
and  smoothed  back  the  damp  yellow  curls  from  the  poor 
scarred  face.  "  I  forgive  you,  Dora/*  she  whispered,  "  a? 
surely  as  I  hope  for  Heaven's  mercy  when  my  last  hour 
shall  have  come. " 

"  But  you  could  not  forgive  me,  if  you  knew  what  * 
have  done/'  gasped  Dora.  "  It  is  beyond  all  hope  of  for* 
giveness." 

"  I  can  and  I  will  forgive  you,  no  matter  what  you  have 
done,"  said  Leonie,  kneeling  at  the  bedside  of  her  fallen 
foe,  and  taking  the  poor  weary  golden  head  on  her  breast. 

"  I  have  ruined  your  life  and  Gordon's,"  whispered 
Dora;  '*  and  God  has  wreaked  just  vengeance  upon  me  for 
it.  You  can  never  forgive  me  for  that,"  she  whispered, 
incredulously.  "  I  will  tell  you  what  I  have  done,  and 
you  can  strike  me  down  with  bitter  scorn  and  anger,  for  1 
am  too  far  gone  to  defend  myself.  Say  harsh  words — I  can 
not  endure  pity  or  kindness  from  you!"  And  between 
broken  gasps  and  sobs,  with  her  hands  closely  clinging  to 
Leonie 's,  she  told  her  all. 

"  Now  turn  from  me,  if  you  will,"  she  whispered.  "  I 
deserve  it."  But  Leonie,  with  a  light  on  her  beautiful  face 
that  resembled  an  angel's,  only  clasped  the  erring  girl  still 
closer,  whose  only  sin  from  the  first  had  been  her  over 
powering  love  for  Gordon  Carlisle — the  love  which  had 
fostered  such  despair,  jealousy,  and  attempted  revenge. 
That  had  recoiled  upon  her  own  hapless  head.  "  I  forgive 
you,  Dora,"  she  whispered,  "  and  may  Heaven  forgive  you 
ab  fully  as  Idol"*.;: 


LBONIB    LOCKE.  273 

44  And  Gordon— would  he — forgive  me?"  she  sobbed. 

"Yes,  Dora,  poor  girl!  I  forgive  you  too/'  responded  a 
deep,  tremulous  voice,  and  Gordon  Carlisle,  who  had  been 
hastily  summoned  by  Mrs.  Stuart  to  the  strange  scene, 
bent  over  Dora's  bedside,  with  tears  of  pity  in  his  blue 
eyes,  for  he  knew  her  love  for  himself  had  been  poor 
Dora's  doom. 

"  Charlie  Hart  will  live,"  he  said,  in  answer  to  Dora's 
tremulous  inquiry;  "  he  forgives  you,  Dora." 

"  There  is  one  thing  I  want  given  to  the  world,  for  the 
benefit  of  all  young  girls,"  whispered  Dora,  feverishly. 
"And  that  is,  to  never  cherish  a  love  in  their  hearts  for 
any  man  who  can  not  or  will  not  return  it;  for  love  makes 
or  mars  a  woman's  whole  life.  And  the  crudest,  most  bit 
ter  suffering  a  girlish  heart  can  ever  endure  is  to  know  that 
her  love  is  unreturned.  Let  my  life  be  a  warning  to  young 
girls  never  to  let  jealousy  take  deep  root  in  their  hearts, 
Ifcst  their  fate  should  be  like  unhappy  Dora  Lancaster's,  a 
victim  of  hopeless  love  and  jealousy!"  and  as  the  last 
words  fell  from  her  lips,  by  a  sudden  movement,  she 
clasped  the  hands  of  the  estranged  lovers  together.  "  Be 
kind  to  him,  Leonie,"  she  whispered,  "  and  sometimes 
when  the  sun  shines,  the  birds  are  singing,  and  the  flowers 
are  in  bloom,  let  Gordon  come  and  kneel  upon  my  grave 
and  I  will  be  content."  Another  moment  and  poor,  err 
ing  Dora  was  no  more. 


CHAPTER  LV. 

"  POOR  Dora!"  sobbed  Leonie.  "  Oh,  Gordon!  Gordon! 
she  is  dead!" 

But  Dora  was  not  dead;  the  dark  angel  was  hovering 
over  her,  but  had  not  yet  stamped  his  seal  upon  her  moist 
white  brow.  Her  eyelids  quivered  a  little  and  slowly 
opened. 

A  smile  that  was  almost  divine  lifted  up  her  face  as  she 


280  LEOHIE    LOCKE. 

saw  Gordon  Carlisle  bending  over  her,  as  he  knelt  by  tbe 
couch. 

Dora  held  ont  her  little  white  hands  to  him  like  a  tired 
child;  then,  with  a  sudden  accession  of  strength,  she  strug 
gled  up  from  the  pillow,  sobbing  out,  plaintively: 

"  Take  me  in  your  arms  just  once,  Gordon!  Let  me  die 
looking  into  your  dear  face  I" 

For  a  moment  Gordon  hesitated,  and  in  that  moment  it 
was  Leonie  that  clasped  his  arms  gently  about  poor  hapless 
Dora,  and  pillowed,  her  golden  head  on  his  breast — the 
noble  rival  that  had  suffered  so  much  at  Dora's  hands. 

"  Be  kind  to  her,  Gordon/'  Leouie  whispered,  tears  of 
pity  falling  like  rain  from  her  dark  eyes. 

"  God  has  heard  my  prayer/'  whispered  Dora,  faintly, 
**'  for  1  prayed  to  Heaven  that  when  I  died  your  arms 
would  be  clasped  around  me,  Gordon,  and  your  face  shall 
be  the  last  one  I  shall  ever  see.  You  will  let  me  touch 
you,  Gordon?"  she  sighed.  "  Your  face  seems  so  waver 
ing  and  indistinct."  And  her  poor  little  hands  wandered 
restlessly  over  the  face  she  had  loved  so  well,  with  a  touch 
that  was  a  yearning,  heart-broken  caress.  '*  I  am  dying, 
Gordon/'  she  sighed,  plaintively,  "  and  here,  on  the  brink 
of  the  grave,  I  will  tell  you  that  the  one  sin  of  my  life  has 
been  my  wild,  mad,  passionate  love  for  you.  I  have  given 
you  the  love  I  should  have  given  Heaven.  I  have  lived  for 
you,  sinned  for  you,  and  now  I  am  dying  for  you!  But  if 
J  have  sinned,  I  have  suffered  a  thousand-fold  for  it.  Say 
that  you  forgive  me,  and  1  will  die  content. " 

With  a  heart  too  full  for  utterance,  Gordon  clasped  the 
erring  girl  still  closer,  through  pity,  in  his  strong  arms; 
and,  in  after  years,  he  always  liked  to  remember  that  he 
bent  his  head  and  kissed  the  cold,  clammy  face  lying  so 
heavily  against  his  breast,  and  he  never  forgot  tht  adoring 
gaze  of  ecstatic  rapture  that  flashed  into  Dora'i  tearleas 
eyes. 

"  I  forgive  yon,  J&rtU^  Le^wdUhisToice  trembdng  with 


LEONTE    LOCKE.  281 

emotion — "  I  forgive  you.  May  .you  die  in  peace,  and  may 
Heaven  pardon  you  as  I  do. " 

"  Promise  that  you  will  not  forget  me  when  I  am  gone, 
Gordon,"  she  whispered.  "  No  one  can  ever  love  you  so 
madly,  or  so  hopelessly  as  I.  Oh,  no  one  ever  could.  But 
it  is  my  last  dying  prayer  that  you  will  marry  Leonie  after 
I  am  gone.  It  was  wrong  to  love  you  better  than  my  God- 
On,  so  wrong!  Gordon;  but  I  did  not  quite  realize  that. 
You  were  the  sun  of  my  life  in  my  thoughts  by  night  and 
by  day.  My  one  great  prayer  was  to  win  your  love — or 
4ie.  Burning  jealousy  led  me  on,  and,  like  draughts  of 
strong  wine,  robbed  me  of  my  reason,  and  I  was  mad — 
yes,  mad  for  love.  I  listened  to  the  voice  of  jealous 
temptation — and  I  fell.  I  schemed,  toiled,  and  prayed  for 
your  love,  but  all  in  vain — all  in  vain.  My  sin  recoiled 
upon  my  own  head,  and  the  sting  of  conscience  is  upon  me; 
but  God  is  good  in  the  last  dread  hour,  for  I  am  lying 
upon  your  breast " 

Gordon  could  only  bow  his  head  over  the  unhappy  girl 
and  weep;  but  the  tears  were  no  disgrace  to  his  manhood* 

Dora  gazed  up  into  his  face  with  a  faint,  wondering  smile. 

"  I  only  deserve  that  you  should  hate  me,  Gordon/'  she 
sighed.  "  How  kind  of  you,  my  lost  love,  to  hold  my 
hands  firmly  clasped  in  yours  and  let  me  rest  my  eyes  on 
the  face  that  is  all  this  world  to  me. 

"  My  short,  ungracious  life  is  nearly  ended,  Gordon— 
my  sins  and  follies  are  all  Over.  I  shall  never  come  be 
tween  you  and  Leonie — fair,  generous,  noble  Leonie  Locke 
—again.  God  intended  you  for  her,  not  me." 

And,  as  the  words  fell  from  her  lips,  poor  Dora  broke 
out  into  a  low,  feeble,  wailing  sob  most  pitiful  to  hear. 

"  Oh,  for  my  lost  youth!  my  lost  life!"  she  sobbed. 
"  Oh,  Gordon!  if  I  might  but  live  it  over  again — if  I  might 
but  have  time  to  redeem  it!" 

Tears  fell  like  rain  from  her  eyes  upon  Gordon  Carlisle's 
hands  that  ninar**^  w»r  closely.  He  bent  h» 


882  LEONIE    LOCKE. 

head  over  her,  whispering  that  God  was  merciful  to  thoso 
who  repented. 

"  I  wish,"  she  cried,  faintly,  "  that  I  could  speak  with 
a  voice  of  warning  that  all  the  world  could  hear,  of  the 
terrible  curse  of  jealousy.  Or  I  wish  that  I  could  have 
written  some  great  work  that  would  have  touched  the 
hearts  of  all  young  girls  who  have  ever  listened  to  that 
fatal  voice.  Oh,  fatal  voice  of  jealousy  that  has  wrecked 
so  many  loving  hearts!  for  a  heart  had  better  break  than 
know  the  all-consuming,  fiery  pangs  of  jealousy  like  I  have 
known/' 

Gordon  tried  hard  to  comfort  her;  but  the  pangs  of  re 
morse  were  too  strong  for  mortal  power  to  soothe. 

"  Gordon,"  she  cried,  cowering  still  closer  in  his  strong, 
sheltering  arms,  "  I  am  standing  on  a  green  islet  in  the 
midst  of  a  swollen  stream,  and  the  dark,  niad,  surging 
waters  are  rising  higher  and  higher  as  they  roll  swiftly  on. 
White  faces  smile  at  me  from  the  mocking  waves,  and 
white  hands  are  stretched  out  to  grasp  me  from  you;  but 
I  do  not  want  to  go.  Oh,  Gordon,  my  love  is  so  strong  I 
do  not  want  to  go  and  leave  you!  Oh,  I  am  so  young  to 
die!  Hark,  how  the  waters  rush!  They  will  cover  me, 
Gordon — see  how  thdy  rise!" 

It  was  pitiful  to  see  how  frantically  poor  Dora's  white 
arms  cluag  to  his  neck,  and  <the  awful  look  of  terror  and 
despair  that  was  in  her  white  face. 

LeoDie,  with  a  heart  too  full  for  utterance,  had  quietly 
stole*  from  the  room,  leaving  poor  dying  Dora  as  she  had 
prayed  to  be  left,  alone  with  Gordon  in  the  hour  of  death. 

"  Gordon,"  she  begged,  "  when  I  am  dead,  remember, 
when  they  speak  of  my  sins,  how  well  I  loved  you.  You 
have  been  the  one  star  of  my  wrecked,  lonely  life.  Try  to 
forget  how  I  came  between  you  and  Leonie,  try  to  forget 
how  wicked  I  have  been.  Only  remember  my  great,  deep, 
passionate  love.  Say  to  yourself,  '  poor  Dora!  poor  erring 
Dora!  how  well  she  l<ro*l  ™*V  Let  my  great  love  pleaci 


LEOHIE    LOCKE.  283 

for  my  forgiveness.  I  had  a  portrait  painted  of  you, 
Gordon/'  she  whispered  with  difficulty,  "  see  that  it  is 
buried  with  me,  I  treasured  it  so  in  life;  you  will  do  tb;s 
Gordon?" 

He  bowed  his  head  with  an  anguish  too  deep  for  words. 

Poor  Dora  looked  the  gratitude  her  white  lips  couM  not 
frame.  '*  And  put  a  faded  rose  that  you  once  gave  me 
with  it,  the  poor  rose  is  lying  all  withered  on  my  breast, 
have  worn  it  there  for  many  a  day,  but  it  is  not  mort» 
withered  than  my  hopes  have  been,  the  hope  of  your  love, 
Gordon.  There  is  no  more  jealousy  or  envy  in  my  heart 
now,  Gordon.  I  have  learned  to  love  Leonie  Locke,  I 
give  you  to  her  freely.  You  may  know  that  I  love  her, 
when  I  give  to  her  the  love  of  my  life.  The  beautiful, 
mad,  sweet,  passionate  love  that  filled  my  heart  and  soul, 
I  give  her  all  this — it  has  been  my  ransom  for  pardon  from 
Heaven/' 

The  clinging  clasp  of  Dora's  arms  grew  weaker. 

"  Hold  me  closer,  Gordon,"  she  whispered,  in  an  awful 
voice,  "  the  river  is  washing  over  me — it  is  carrying  me 
out  of  your  arms.  Oh,  Gordon!  Gordon!  my  lost  love!  the 
great  dark  water  is  drifting  me  from  you!  Bend  forward, 
quick!  and  kiss  my  face — just  once — for  the  waves  have 
swept  me  from  you!" 

Gordon  bent  down  quickly  and  pressed  his  warm  lips  to 
the  cold,  clammy  ones  lying  against  his  breast. 

"  Good-bye,  Gordon,"  she  wailed — "the  waters  have 
swept  your  face  from  sight!" 

Suddenly  the  fast-glazing  eyes  were  raised  yearningly  to 
his,  and  he  saw  a  smile  pass  over  her  white,  wistful  face, 
and  poor,  erring,  unhappy  Dora,  who  had  died  for  love  of 
him,  passed  peacefully  away — as  she  had  prayed  so  hard 
that  she  might — with  her  eyes  fixed  on  his  face.  Her  ears 
were  closed  to  his  passionate  weeping  as  he  laid  her  gently 
down  among  the  silken  nillows* — JlVords  of  love  or  regret, 


284:  LEWIE    LOOKS. 

of  passion  or  sorrow,  would  reach  her  again  nevermore  OD 
earth. 

He  kissed  the  white  face  again  and  again,  weeping  for 
her  hopeless,  sorrowful  love-dream  that  had  brought  her  to 
her  doom.  He  almost  fancied  a  smile  flitted  over  those 
cold,  pallid  lips  under  his  caressing  touch;  but  it  was  only 
the  flickering  sunshine  resting  pityingly  upon  the  white, 
amiling  face,  framed  in  its  sheen  of  golden  hair — of  all 
that  was  mortal  of  poor,  unhappy  Dora  Lancaster,  who 
had  died  for  love. 


CHAPTER  LVL 

A  WEEK  later  there  was  a  brilliant  wedding  at  the 
Lexington  Avenue  mansion,  and  the  pretty  bride  and  the 
happy  groom*  who  had  parted  at  Dora's  bedside,  had  not 
met  again  until  they  met  before  the  altar. 

And,  underneath  a  floral  bell  in  the  magnificent  parlor, 
snrrounded  by  a  brilliant  throng  of  friends,  Gordon  Carlisle 
and  Leonie  Locke  were  joined  together  in  holy  matrimony, 
for  better  or  for  worse,  until  death  parted  them. 

And  the  happy  young  husband  could  scarcely  wait  until 
they  were  alone  together  to  take  Leonie  in  his  arms  and 
rain  down  a  world  of  passionate  kisses  on  the  beautiful 
blushing  face  of  sweet  Leonie  who  was  all  his  own  now. 

"  There  has  never  been  such  a  love  story  as  ours,  my 
darling,"  Gordon  whispered,  holding  her  close  to  hi? 
throbbing  breast.  *'  No  two  lovers  ever  were  so  cruelly 
parted  or  so  strangely  reunited.  A  whole  life-time  of  love 
must  make  atonement  for  what  we  have  endured.  All  the 
dark  clouds  have  rolled  away,  and  in  the  future  we  will  live 
only  in  the  blissful  sunshine  of  each  other's  love." 

Leonie  answered  him  with  a  timid  kiss,  as  she  hid  her 
rosy,  blushing  face  on  his  breast  and  twined  her  little  white 
arms  round  his 


LEOtflB    LOGCB.  285 

Gordon,  like  most  young  husbands,  needed  no  ether 
answer.  He  was  quite  content — love  ruled  supreme. 

There's  nothing  half  so  sweet  in  life  as  love's  young 
dream  when  fully  realized. 

The  great  sensational  story  found  its  way  into  the  daily 
papers,  as  sensational  stories  always  do;  and  many  a  work 
ing-girl  read  the  story  of  Leonie  Locke,  and  their  honest 
hearts  thrilled  as  they  read  the  story  of  her  struggle  against 
adverse  fate.  She  had  been  a  working-girl  like  them 
selves;  she  had  known  all  their  privations,  the  early  rising, 
hurried  toilet,  and  hurrying  steps  to  the  work-shop.  She 
hatl  known  what  it  was  to  toil  late  and  early  for  the  sweet 
bread  of  life,  and  had  known  all  their  sorrows  and  the 
pitiful  desolation  and  fear  of  being  discharged  from 
work. 

No  wonder  the  hearts  of  the  people  warmed  to  Leonie 
Locke — Leonie  Carlisle,  the  young  millionaire's  bride  now 
— as  their  hearts  had  never  warmed  to  any  other  young  girl 
who  had  gained  wealth,  and  above  all  the  love  of  a  young 
husband  who  fairly  adored  her. 

The  loss  of  Leonie 's  diamonds  was  hushed  quietly  up  for 
Mrs.  Barrett's  sake. 

No  one  ever  found  out  the  hidden  mystery  in  the  life  of 
John  Carlisle,  Gordon's  father.  The  curious  prying  world 
never  knew  that  hidden  secret  of  Dora's  double  loss  of  love 
and  fortune  too. 

Gordon's  father  and  mother  learned  to  fairly  worship 
beautiful  Leonie,  "  Gordon's  young  wife,"  as  they  always 
called  her,  and  a  spirit  of  rivalry  has  always  existed  be 
tween  Lawyer  Barrett  and  his  good  wife  and  the  Gordons 
ds  to  which  loves  her  best 

A  pretty  little  girl,  with  wine-dark  eyes  like  Leonie's, 
and  golden  hair  like  Gordon's,  blesses  that  luxurious 
Lexington  Avenue  home,  and  if  you  ask  her  what  her 
name  is  she  will  raise  those  wondrous  dark  eyes  of  hers  and 


286  JLEUXLK  . 

answer,  "  papa  calls  me  *  little  pet,'  but  my  mamma  calla 
me*  Dora. '" 

In  the  old  Trinity  Church-yard,  quite  within  sight  of  the 
surging  throngs  of  passers-by,  is  the  grave  of  that  other 
Dora  who  is  never  mentioned  save  with  tears  of  pity.,  in  the 
home  of  Gordon  Carlisle.  A  drooping  willow  waves  above 
poor  Dora,  but  the  blithe  birds  seem  to  shun  that  spot  and 
the  whispering  winds  that  stir  the  branches  seem  to  mur 
mur  the  story  of  her  unhappy  love. 

There  is  little  more  to  tell,  dear  reader.  Charlie  Hart 
had  suddenly  disappeared,  but  for  Mrs.  Stuart's  sake  no 
attempt  was  made  to  bring  him  to  the  punishment  he  had 
so  richly  deserved. 

Leonie  and  Gordon  are  reunited  now,  happy  in  each 
other's  love  at  last. 

In  the  *rand  parlor  of  their  spacious  Lexington  Avenue 
home  liangs  a  picture  to  which  Gordon  Carlisle,  the  hand 
some  young  husband,  points  witt  pardonable  pride.  It  is 
tie  picture  of  a  blusnma,  cov  young  girl,  with  a  face  as 
pretty  and  dainty  as  a  nower — a  young  girl  in  a  dark 
merino  dress  with  jacket  and  cap  to  match — and  beneath 
the  picture  in  Gordon's  writing  are  the  words,  "  Le.onie, 
my  darling  little  bride." 

Although  jewels  glisten  now  in  Leonie's  dark-brown  hair 
and  on  her  small  white  hands,  and  wealth  that  a  princess 
might  envy  surrounds  her,  she  is  not  proud  and  cold. 

And  when  Leonie  passes  by  many  a  young  girl  mur 
murs,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  "  God  bless  her!  she  is  a  true 
friend  of  all  working-girls.  We  shall  never  forget  sweet 
Leonie  Locke. " 

It  is  evening  now,  and  Gordon  stands  before  that  picture 
upon  which  the  sunlight  falls  so  lovingly,  his  arms  are 
clasped  about  Leonie's  slender  waist,  and  he  bends  his 
handsome,  golden  head  and  whispers  lovingly,  "  That  is 
the  way  you  looked,  my  darling,  when  we  first  met,  an(? 


LEOKIE    LOCKE.  287 

when  I  fell  so  deeply  in  love  with  you,  sweet  little  bride, 
and  you  will  never  look  prettier,  arrayed  in  all  the  trap 
pings  of  wealth,  than  when  you  were  only  Leonie  Locke,  a 
working-girl.  I  searched  among  the  busy  workers  of  life's 
sea  and  found  a  pearl  of  great  price,  and  my  life  has  been 
so  happy  ever  since  that  I  advise  all  young  men  to  marry, 
^nd  above  all  to  search  among  the  working-girls  for  a  Inval 
md  loving  wife,  just  such  a  one  as  my  pretty  Leonie/' 


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